I was having a bucolic afternoon, as most are these days, lounging on the grass. There were butterflies and birds in the yard. One squirrel on the fence. The spinach seedlings are growing. So are the tomatoes. The cherries are ripening. The poppies have gone from seeds to frilliness and soon to bloom. The salvia is red and gorgeous. I was soaking it all in when out came the hose. I am OBSESSED with the hose. I’m not sure why. I’ve only gotten my feet wet once at the river. I didn’t like the shower I had to have when I returned all stinky. But the HOSE, I must ATTACK, repeatedly, and then again. To say I was preoccupied would be an understatement. I circle and lunge, retreat, regroup, replan, reattack and counterattack. I am determined. I am stealth. I am on a mission. I am not thirsty. I don’t particularly want to get wet. It makes no sense. I just snap into a different character. I mean I become possessed. I have not control. It is as if I am someone else. OMG. That’s it. I have a split personality. Spooky. Really eerie. Kinda chilling. The other me must have a name. What is it? Olliezilla? Dracuollie? Cruollie? How to I get the other me out? Ella watches from a distance, bemused. She’s SOOOO mature. And dry.