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Chances, embarrassed by her vanity is urged to model her new blue collar.

Foresight, Lack thereof

Foresight is something I never had. I'm a "ready, fire, aim" person and always have been. I'm better than I used to be, which I think I owe to Ken. He's very deliberate and is an excellent role model. My lack of foresight impacts my life in big ways and small ways. There's a hole in my kitchen ceiling because, several years ago drops of water were coming down from the ceiling next to the refrigerator. I made a hole in the ceiling to find the source. That was really stupid: there's no plumbing there so of course there would be no leak there. The water was leaking from the shower drain and was just rolling down a floor joist to the lowest point.

Here's a small way my lack of foresight has made a difference: I bought new collars for the dogs. Chances had a purple collar; I bought her a pretty blue collar. Tess had a green collar; I bought her a purple collar. Granted, I ordered these collars online and they were on sale so my choices were limited by size and choice of color. Here's the catch: the dogs look remarkable alike, and at a glance it's often hard for me to tell them apart. The surefire way for me to distinguish them was by the color of their collars. Last night I was sitting next to a dog with a purple collar. The dog who used to have a green collar, not the dog who used to have a purple collar. I just feel that someone more clever than I would have known that it would be a stupid idea to get the other dog a purple collar, since this would lead to confusion over which dog was wearing the purple collar. Somehow I just feel that this defines my life. It's all about a purple collar.

Bad news when I got home last night. What I've long feared has happened: the land across from my house is now for sale. I have to call the realtor to see how large the lot is and how much it's listed for. I can't stand the idea of having a neighbor and have always sworn that when that lot is sold I will sell my house and move to High Banks, a place where no one would ever want to live because the growing season is about 6 weeks long. Now that the day seems near of course I reconsider. I like where I live--I like being able to walk to camp, seeing Whiteface in the winter, being near Ken and my large seasonal social circle. We're all making plans for our colony of retirees in the not-so-distant future. I can't really leave that, it's far too appealing. But a neighbor? Or more than one? I truly cringe at the thought.