It’s that time of year again.

The drop in temperature and the quality of the light at dawn give me the itch to be up in the mountains. It’s my time of year, and I live for it these days. Today is opening day in my preferred hunting zone, in fact, but instead of sitting quietly on a stump, I’m down here typing.

Opening day isn’t my favorite anyway. It’s usually too hot and most of the deer haven’t moved down from the higher elevations yet. I’m not a huge fan of crowded dusty roads and getting shot at, and opening day is full of both of those. Besides, I have the kids, and I’ve been resigned to only hunting every other weekend for the last decade or so.

But I couldn’t go anyway, and that’s what’s catching at the back of my mind. My truck’s still not fixed, so even if I had the weekend free, I couldn’t get up there. I don’t expect it to be ready by next weekend either, and that’s really going to eat at me. I’m not even ready to hunt yet; usually by now, I’d have all of my tags filled out and neatly placed in their ziplock bag in my pack along with everything else I’ll need. I haven’t done that yet. The trailer’s not plugged in or filled with water waiting to go. My hunting clothes are in it, but they live there all year anyway. I’m not mentally prepared, and I really should be in case one of my friends will bring me with them on short notice.

The week’s been full of little things not worth their own entry.

I sent in the application for that job, and warned my current boss that he could be getting a call. I didn’t want to surprise him, and they’ve known all along that I can’t relocate. Now that I’ve done that, I find it hard to look myself in the eye when I think about how little I’m actually doing these days at work. I’m a little embarrassed; it’s dwindled so gradually that I didn’t notice right off that I’ve become a complete slacker. I worry that people think that’s a function of who I am, rather than the job I’ve got. I don’t want to look lazy, but there’s just not that much to do. If I have to leave before my last two projects are finished, it won’t matter. Someone else can easily pick up that slack.

I took the cat in to be neutered yesterday. He came home wide-eyed and subdued from the anesthetic, but he’s leaving himself alone once he got the vet-stink off of him. He was very cuddly last night. I’m really starting to dig this having a cat thing; he’s my little buddy who trips me routinely by walking between my feet and who sleeps every night in my left armpit. He’s getting big too; almost eight pounds yesterday, and he’s only four months old.

I decided to have my Ren Faire dress altered. I was a little hesitant about changing it and having it not done as well as it was originally made, but it really wasn’t going to work as it was. They’re taking about two inches off, so it should be nice and supportive, and what cleavage I have left won’t slither down into the bodice, never to be seen again. I’m having them leave the extra fabric in case I get fat again, but it might as well be wearable now. Of course, I also can’t get to the Ren Faire until the truck’s fixed.

That truck has my life on hold, I swear. At least I can get around town, but getting on the freeway is hazardous when there’s a big rig barrelling down on you, and you can’t get it above 40 in time to merge. I’m minimizing my freeway trips as much as possible and picking long on-ramps, because I like to live. I’m not looking forward to that repair bill either, especially with a pay cut possibly coming up.

So, low-level stress all around this week. I’m going to take advantage of the fall weather and cook. Beer-braised short ribs and homemade pizza are on the menu for this weekend, both of which should occupy my mind and time with something safe for a while.