“Remoted” Day 285 (Saturday)

Christmas Day plus one / Boxing Day / Saturday began quietly and stayed that way. The service station where the car was delivered  was closed, or just wasn’t answering the phone, but in any case, there is no news about the broken car.

Many candies were consumed.

The most strenuous activity undertaken was the harvest of the perpetually replenishing poop. This was followed by the even less strenuous storage of the Christmas gift bag inventory (I walked upstairs and returned them to the spare room), and sweeping of the kitchen floor, despite Moose’s best efforts to interfere by walking through the sweepings and chasing the broom. These took all of 20 minutes, if that.

The neglect of my personal physical fitness and exercise continues, facilitated by hours and hours of daily sitting at work and leisure, and manifesting in diminished flexibility and strength. The moving picture streaming entertainment for the day was the remaining episodes of “Bridgerton” followed by “The Spanish Princess.” Historical costume dramas are interesting, but a streaming issue with Prime kept pausing “The Spanish Princess” every minute or two tonight, resulting in aggravation. 

1996 permed hair?

In the realm of personal history, time was enjoyed looking at three photo albums Mom gave me yesterday. One is a scrapbook of Grandpa Ray’s life made by his wife Markie. Forty years before the current scrapbooking trend, Markie was creating scrapbooks documenting various family members. Dozens of them sat labeled and numbered and catalogued in her book case. Another album was one we created about Mummu’s life for the surprise 80^th birthday party Mom organized for her. We had asked family members to submit photos of themselves with Mummu from the early years. It was fun reliving the day spent with many family members and puzzling over my hair cut, which looks permed and is a hair style on my head of which I have no recollection. More likely, it was blocked from memory, but it appears in many photos in an album and I can only wonder what I was thinking in 1996.

In addition to the floor sweeping, there was also a day-long kitchen cookie clean sweep accomplished by unrestrained snacking. This, of course, was followed by the self-inflicted stomach ache. Maybe it was the supper of gouda, Triscuits, and summer sausage that tipped it over the edge, but more likely it was the many pieces of vanilla fudge with sea salt that followed.