The next morning, Sawyer’s dad came by to pick him up since the campground they were going to was out past me. I welcomed the extra time in my pajamas and with my coffee, and after Santiago left for work, I decided to enjoy an hour with my cross-stitch on the front porch.
I picked up my basket and my mug and invited Beauregard to join me on the porch. He followed slowly and then stood below the porch swing meowing until I went back inside, got his velour blanket, and then draped it over the king’s throne so he could swing and snooze in complete luxury. How this cat had gotten so spoiled was beyond me, a claim my father would shoot down with a lot of evidence to the contrary.
The linen I’d bought was twenty-two count, and I was glad, once again, that I’ve finally caved to the needs of my
