Ms. Got Rocks by Jacqueline Colt

had disappeared. Rocky knew that her Dad owned one. There was no shop vacuum in the garage where her Father kept it, either.
    Hours later her bedroom was almost habitable; it needed window glass and definitely a new mattress. The bed linens were all in the garbage bags to go to the dump, Rocky could not save them. The sleeping bag from the plane and Dev’s tent will be fine for the interim and probably fun.
    The first evening in the new home, Rocky boiled water on the wood stove. She made macaroni and cheese from a box that was in the pantry. The dogs were thrilled to get a tablespoon of Mac and cheese mixed into their kibble and canned food.
    After dinner, the dogs went for a swim in the river to cool off. Tomorrow, the kitchen would be squared away and they would have a real meal. Rocky had not forgotten how to cook on the wood stove.
    She and the exhausted dogs spent the night in the tent in the front yard, they watched the moon rise and listened to the river and the owls.
    *   *   *
    Journal
    Today I started at the top of the cabin with a better broom I finally found this morning and dust rags. The attic is pretty much home for a colony of wood rats. I boosted Phoebe up into the attic and the dog began a through search for mouse quarry.
    I added to what will probably is an enormous shopping list with rat and mouse traps. There are two broken windows, another entirely missing and one cracked. Not bad, I muse, as there are only four windows in the attic anyway.
    She continued her journal writing: Repairing windows can’t be that hard, and instead of windows, maybe I want a roof vent. I added window screening to the list.
    I didn’t find what I was looking for in the attic. The tools have remained hidden and I can really use them right now.
    I swept up four cardboard cartons of pine needles and wood rat debris and hauled it down the stairs and through the house, before it occurred to me to tie a rope to it and lower it through the broken window. I’m too smart, too late as I shove the boxes into the back of the pickup.
    End of Journaling as I am falling asleep writing this.
    *   *   *
    The pickup truck was loaded for a dump run, with the ruined contents of her bedroom and the boxes of pine needles with mouse debris, and the living room curtains.
    “Getting a ticket for not having a tarp on this load will probably be in my horoscope for today,” Rocky told Lovie and Phoebe riding shotgun..
    “Add a tarp to the shopping list. I don’t need a fortuneteller to predict that I will be going to the dump a lot this week,” she laughed as they turned left onto the county road to go to the land fill.
    After the dump run, they drove by Margie’s, but her car was not there. She must be working the early shift at the hospital this week.
    Pulling into the building supplies yard, Rocky snagged a parking space that was close to the load out door, put the dogs on guard status with the windows rolled down.
    After checking her bank balance, Rocky shoved the shopping list and checkbook into her jeans pocket. She was ready for window fixings and new front steps.
    That shopping made her hungry, it was already past lunchtime. The truck was loaded and her checkbook was very slender, but they were ready to get started.
    With a quick stop at the grocery for bread and juice and dog food, they rattled toward the cabin.
    “Damn Tony, I miss my camera,” she thought. "Taking phone pictures isn't the same."
    The phone would not be anything close to the quality of her camera, but she wanted a record of what she was going to do to the cabin.
    Back home, in the attic again, Rocky hauled up the sawhorses by the pulley she attached to the stair banister. It was hot up here, but the critters would not stay evicted without the windows covered.
    Putting the glass in the windows was not that difficult but it took most of the afternoon to do the four attic windows. Rocky brought her tea up there, and surveyed what she could do to finish up