random thoughts – Day 1,898 – (Wednesday) –progress

Kiki posing on the bed.

Kiki is being extra cute lately and I’m all for it. When she is laying on the bed, shedding all over the black throw she has come to call her own, and I walk into the bedroom, she no longer slinks off the bed like a ninja and hides. She remains in place and lets me approach and stroke her silky face.

When I’m in bed, she will sit in the doorway and stare in my general direction. If I call her, she’ll come to the side of the bed and let me pet her before she flops over onto her side and stretches with her belly facing me, but just beyond my reach, a distance she has gauged with the precision of an engineer.

She still won’t sit on the couch and has no interest in my lap. Yet. She will sit nearby on the rug, or in the doorway of the room I’m in, often looking my way. If she wants attention, she will emit a little yelp of a meow and I will say "come here." She approaches so I can reach down to pet her. 

Tonight, there was a new nuance to our little routine. Kiki was letting me stroke her from her head the tip of her tail. I rubbed her hips and she raised her butt and tail into the air before plopping down onto her side and showing me her white belly. And then, for the first time I can recall, and possibly the first time ever, she let me rub her belly. She didn't recoil and then run away like she used to do. She remained in her sprawled pose for a few seconds and I rubbed her belly, stopping before she had a chance to decide she didn’t like it anymore. Progress!

random thoughts – Day 1,897 – (Tuesday) – dancey side quest

The home organizing/decluttering efforts of Monday had more than just the fancy side quest of refolding, laundering, and becoming reacquainted with vintage gowns. There was also a cleanout of files, where I confidently determined I don’t need every gas and electric bill or bank statement from the past nine years.

Clarksville Leaf Chronicle, May 20, 2011.

The file cleanout component of the larger project had its own side quest trip down memory lane with the file called “Dance.” I knew there was a file somewhere with printouts of belly dance choreography from my time in Tennessee, and yesterday, I was suddenly flipping through the belly dance memories. 

There were flyers, programs, and newspaper articles about the shows. Such fun times. The bulk of the file was choreography notes for dances. Some I remember doing and others I have zero recall. With the exception of the first dance I performed in Tennessee to a song called “Simarak” by the Turkish singer Tarkan, and a group number to "Istanbul Not Constantinople" by They Might Be Giants, I can’t remember any of the music from the dances. The songs might live in my old, long-forgotten, Apple iTunes account if it still exists and hasn’t been deleted due to lack of use.

Reading the choreography notes is like reading a foreign language. Unlike ballet or tap dancing, belly dance doesn’t have standardized, recognized names for steps. The same move can be called different things based on the country of origin, dance style, dance school, dance instructor's personal experience, and any number of other factors. 

The move that caught my eye on Monday was “cigarette turn” in the notes for the "Yasmeena" routine and I’m intrigued. And stumped. What even are those? We did them several times in the dance, so it was probably cool. An Internet search yielded nothing helpful.

In other dance news, tonight, at dance class, I was way off my game. It’s like I’ve gone brain dead, and it was rough running through the two group dances I’m in for the show in a few weeks. I’m going to need to stop the little side quests and dedicate more time to practicing my dances.  Channeling Yul Brenner as Pharoah Ramses II when he makes a decree in the 1965 movie The Ten Commandments, "So it is written, so it shall be done."

random thoughts – Day 1,896 – (Monday) – fancy side quest

The three-day weekend is in my top five favorite things related to work. Number one is obviously the paycheck. Then there is full week off, four-day weekend, three-day weekend, and finally, free coffee. For most of the stages in my so-called career, the top five favorites have been wrapped inside a corporate box of glass walls, glass ceilings, dead-ended career paths, and not a mentor in sight. But I digress.

This three-day weekend was top tier. There was dance practice on Saturday and Sunday. There was a cook-out/eat-in gathering on Sunday. Then, there was a day of R&R and sorting things and decluttering.

The day’s R&R started with sleeping late, followed by coffee drinking. There was a long and luxurious hot shower and word games and Duolingo lessons. The planned exploration of the never-made-it-to-being-a-guest-room involved some delightful side quests. 

One side quest involved a box from Mom labeled “Dresses.” I knew in a vague way it included gowns from the 1970s and early 1980s. Some of the dresses I remember from when life was more glamorous and Mom and Dad went to the Policeman’s Ball and other formal events I couldn't wait to be old enough to attend. I wanted to refold and pack the contents of the box with the other vintage clothing.

The box held a green velvet gown with a high neck with gold brocade trim and full sleeves gathered into gold brocade trimmed cuffs. I could imagine Mom wearing this, but don’t have an actual memory of her in it. Another green dress featured a white empire waist bodice with green trim and solid green skirt that I don't remember seeing before and fell in love with today.

Of the dresses I remember Mom wearing, there was a white sleeveless empire waist gown with a pleat and a bow in the back and silver and gray beading at the neckline and arm openings. A pink cap sleeve empire waist gown has velvet ribbon with satin ribbon roses at the waist and sleeve hems. There were two polyester knit dresses made by Mom – a solid black halter top gown with simple, clean lines and a dark blue halter top gown with large white collar, which I can tell was from the same pattern.  

Ready to wear, if only...

The box included a slate blue gown bought for the senior prom at my high school that I ended up not attending, but I got to wear it at another school’s prom. The cream satin sleeveless jumpsuit I wore to the Thanksgiving semi-formal dance my senior year was in the box. A white Gunne Sax style dress with small flowers and lace trim that I recall my sister wearing to a prom was also in the box.

The one dress I can’t recall any of us wearing was a green polyester knit sleeveless gown that ties at the shoulders and has a knife-pleated trim at the bodice and back. Very cool, but I can’t peg it to an event or wearer.

The washable dresses were laundered and hung to dry. Luckily, most of a makeup stain came off the white collar on the blue gown. A stain on the front of my sister’s dress that might have been tomato or chocolate lightened in the wash, but didn’t completely come out. 

The gowns requiring dry cleaning will be in limbo for a while as I contemplate whether to invest in professional cleaning, but the washable gowns are fresh and ready to wear, if only there were opportunities to do so. Sigh. 

Feeling "right" on the M/S Noordam.

For most of my life I've felt like I was born in the wrong decade and/or era, and seeing all the gowns today reinforced that. A week-long Holland America cruise with formal nights, a few years of formal New Year's Eve parties, and some themed events have been the times that felt closest to "right" in my dream wardrobe/lifestyle department. 

Now I really want to put on one of those gowns and strut myself into an event. I’ll be downtown for an in-office day on Wednesday, so maybe then. It might be fine to shake things up and glide down Merrimack Street in a gown at 8:15 in the morning, passing everyone else in their jeans and athleisure wear.

random thoughts – Day 1,895 – (Sunday) – flora and fauna

The irises are beginning to pop.

The deep purple irises in the front yard are blooming and the rhododendron has sprung to life. The echinacea plant and one of the mums that were eaten by some yard critter last year seem to have disappeared, leaving spaces for some new plants that I hope will be critter-proof. It would help, of course, if I knew which critters were the culprits. 

The sky was cloudy but wasn’t expelling water so that felt like a win. It was still on the chilly side of the temperature scale though, so it was a limited victory. 

Dance practice went well all the way around and it feels like we are ready for the June 6 showcase we are dancing in.  After practice, I went to a cookout and saw folks I hadn’t seen in a couple years. Not seeing these people was totally my doing because I had been invited to previous Memorial Day and Independence Day cookouts, but for various reasons, I didn't attend. I was glad things worked today and I was able to be there.

Sweet Chloe takes a rest.

It was fun seeing everyone and there was a ton of food, and a sweet little dog named Chloe. Chloe is a sweetie pie and was interested in letting me pet her and it was adorable. I will take canine and feline attention wherever it is offered, and it that means I’m needy, well, that’s okay. I’m not that afraid of labels.

On the way home, the car automatically piloted itself into Market Basket yet again. There was no real need for anything and I’m now thinking that maybe the MB team and the Jeep Navigation programming team are in cahoots and have commandeered the steering system. It's the best explanation I have for being at MB three times this week with no list or actual need.

There were lots of empty spaces in the MB lot which set a false expectation for the disproportionate number of people found inside. I visited dairy first, and clearly I haven’t paid attention to that corner lately. A pound of Land O’ Lakes butter was $8.59. For real? What insanity is that? I got the store brand for $3.99.

Two women had carts parked side-by-side blocking access to the bags of shredded and grated cheese. They stood there having a lengthy conversation while their several children shrieked and ran around in the limited space available around the carts. With just a hand basket, I was able to squeeze through the sliver of aisle not occupied by chatting adults, carts, or kids. I had been in the store for only about 60 seconds and was ready to flee. 

The rest of the visit was similar – conversation clogged aisles and kids running around. The bonus was at the border of the ice cream cases and the produce section when a kid who had been running around began screaming bloody hell when scooped up by a parent and placed in the wagon. That’s when I bolted for the express checkout with my Friendly’s maple walnut 1.5-quart ice cream, quart of half-and-half, pound of butter, head of broccoli, cans of black beans and sweet corn, and bottle of peppercorn ranch dressing because the Ken’s Steak House parmesan peppercorn has gone extinct again. I’ve conquered olive oil and vinegar dressing, and it seems it may be time to learn how to make my own creamy salad dressings.

I wondered if I smelled of Chloe the dog and Kiki the Feline Sovereign would shun me, but that didn’t happen. Kiki met me with the usual greeting and requests for affection. It was a relief, but I still felt like I had cheated on her.

random thoughts – Day 1,894 – (Saturday) – old and new

Friday night featured fitful sleep. I awoke every couple hours for stretches that felt like forever and then it was 7:00 this morning and the weekend alarm was sounding. I hit snooze every ten minutes before finally getting up at 8:00.

There was some coffee and light weekly cleaning before heading to the electronics recycling event at St. Rita’s Parish. It was a great opportunity  to unload the old LexMark printer bought when I was in Tennessee and needed to print out homework during my one semester flirtation with a paralegal program. Years later, it was handy for resumes and scanning images, but it hadn’t been touched the entire time I’ve lived at The BungaLowell. It sat on the top of the shelving unit in the spare room until this morning.

At the recycling event.

The printer was inexpensive but it turned out the ink was not. The refill cartridges cost almost as much as the original price of the printer, and they dried out quickly. I hung on to it for the scanning capability and partly because I didn’t know how to set myself free of it. Luckily, earlier this week I saw an item about today’s recycle event in the Lowell Sun and I had a solution. 

When I pulled into the parking lot at St. Rita’s I saw several bikes and realized I had forgotten to grab the one I meant to drop off. I delivered my old printer to the designated U-Haul truck parked next to a small trailer, paid the $5 fee, and left triumphant. 

There were still several hours left of the event but I didn’t rush to get back there with the bike. There were plans for the afternoon with my duet partner to finish the choreography and practice our dance. Success! Now we will continue to practice and refine our new choreography for the next several weeks leading to the show. We’ve got this. 

random thoughts – Day 1,893 – (Friday) – vehicular mystery

A week or two ago, a letter arrived from my insurance agency that they would no longer be writing policies with the auto insurance company I have, but I don’t need to do anything and they’ll reach out with information on the new carrier before my policy renews in August. Ok, cool.

Thursday’s mail included a letter from the auto insurance company. The envelope was thick, like when they send a policy, and I figured it had something to do with the upcoming change. 

The cover letter referenced a file number, a “loss date,” and began with, “we wish to acknowledge receipt of your automobile accident claim that occurred on April 25, 2025.” It noted the enclosed Massachusetts Operators Crash Report that needs to be completed and returned to help with the investigation of my claim.

Ummmmm, come again? What, what? There has been no incident involving my vehicle and I have made no insurance claims.

Sleep was delayed that night as my monkey brain and I rolled back the mental tape of recent automotive events. There was a battery replaced by AAA in my driveway a few months ago, one front tire was low when it got cold several days ago, and my registration was renewed in April. On the date referenced in the letter, I was off from work, hung around the house a lot, and then had a dress rehearsal for a dance show. That’s it. I was 100% sure there was nothing involving damage to or by my vehicle that required a crash report.

First thing this morning I called the claims agent who sent the letter and explained I had no idea what this was about. The agent said that because there was a claim referencing my vehicle from another party’s insurance company, it was policy for them to reach out to me as their customer. The agent noted that I would definitely know if something was wrong with my vehicle relative to the claim filed because it said that my car and another car were both on fire. Burned up.

Yup, I would have noticed (and remembered) if that had been my car. My car is fine. Not burned in any way. Now I’m dying to know who filed this claim and whose vehicles were involved.

The agent said the claim didn’t provide a street, just a city, which seemed odd and added that maybe it’s attempted fraud. I said maybe there was a typo on the license plate recorded or the state was noted wrong, especially with the many license plate holders that cover the state name.

Definitely and thankfully not burned.

In any event, it was definitely not my vehicle, and it seems the follow-up letter is working at ferreting out incorrect information/ potential fraud. Instead of filling out the crash report for the event that didn’t happen with me or my vehicle, I was instead asked to send an email stating that my vehicle was not involved in a fire. Done.

I love a good mystery and hope to learn more about what really happened surrounding this mysterious claim. Maybe I need to find a mature ladies amateur detective club to help me.

random thoughts – Day 1,892 – (Thursday) – weather and delays

This doesn't feel like May.

Chilly, gray, and wet seem to the descriptors for this week and unfortunately, also into the weekend where the buzzworthy weather word is “Nor’easter.”  Who doesn’t love a lead up to Memorial Day weekend that is described as “wet, windy, and chilly.” At least Monday looks better.

I could have had the storage and moving pod delivered on Friday but the forecast for rain resulted in me changing it to Tuesday. I couldn’t picture myself schlepping stuff to the cube in the rain.

Instead, I can use the weekend to pack boxes to go into the bigger box, and scrounge up more boxes and dig out the space bags and strategize the things that will go into the box right away (entire spare room) and which things can wait. There is a recycling event Saturday morning and I can unload my printer (untouched since I moved here, kept because it is also a scanner) and the racing bike I paid a ton of money for in Tennessee and rode twice. I can practice the dances for the June shows and work on costuming and gather work samples for the job search without feeling guilty for not working in the box. The weather is actually a blessing for having removed a big stress point from the weekend.

Scalloped potatoes.

The icky weather had me hunkering down in winter mode all over again. It was a great chance to the try the boxed scalloped potatoes bought at Hannaford a while ago. It was an impulse purchase from the specials positioned in the vestibule with the shopping carts. By the time the automatic doors whooshed open and I entered the store, I already had boxed macaroni and cheese and scalloped potatoes in the cart.

The boxed potatoes require butter and milk, and improvisation was required due to the absence of milk. I diluted the rest of the half and half to meet the 2/3 cup required, and now there is none for coffee tomorrow, but I had scalloped potatoes tonight and they were warm and creamy and satisfying. They would be good to have on hand for a dinner planning pinch or a wretched day in late May when it's a wet 40-something degrees. 

random thoughts – Day 1,891 – (Wednesday) –climate control

After the UML commencement events over the weekend, my drive downtown was nearly deserted today. Light traffic volume, a string of green lights, minimal a**holery from other drivers. Amazing. This was followed by finding a convenient parking spot on the third level of the garage, despite the entire basement level being closed. It’s the way commutes should be.

The climate du jour, on the other hand, was not the way it should be. I was dressed in a spring-weight sweater with cropped pants with booties that exposed the ankles a bit. Before leaving for the office, I decided to grab a jacket. A survey of the suit jackets in the closet led to nothing that coordinated. The final choice was a down-filled short jacket from the coat closet. The color worked perfectly with the pants. I felt a little stupid wearing a sweater and a down jacket in late May, but I hate being cold even more, so I went with it. It was chilly outside, but I figured it would warm up.

A rose blooms in Lowell, 5-21-25.

After scoring the great parking space, the walk to the office was done quickly, partly to keep warm. I always check the pocket garden on John Street. The weeds had been cleaned up, things were trimmed, and a single pale yellow rose was in full bloom on one of the rose bushes. So lovely.

Inside the office, it was also chilly. The A/C, over which we have next to no control, was blowing Artic level air. The down jacket remained on most of the day, supplemented by a blanket over my lap and legs. In late May. Indoors. It wasn’t just me. One colleague kept her leather coat on all day, another wore a fleece jacket, and two of the guys were wearing thermal vests. It seemed more like February than May.

Knowing the A/C couldn't be turned off, I boosted the temperature setting to 80 in an attempt to at least reduce the volume of cold air intruding in our space. It didn’t seem to help and the frigid air continued to circulate. I imagined my blood turning to slush. 

Kitty sleeping in a window.

Just before 5:00, I bolted for the door as fast as my frozen self allowed, carrying two empty boxes from the office that can be used for decluttering the house. It felt no warmer outside than it had been at 8:15 am, but there was an imaginary carrot on my imaginary stick that propelled me forward. One quarter of a mile ahead was my car with heated seats, a heated steering wheel, and an enthusiastic heater, where I had full climate control.

I broke stride for a couple seconds to look in the windows of Lazy Cat Café as I passed. Juggling the boxes, I snapped a couple quick photos of the resident tuxedo cat asleep in a kitty sized chair in one of the windows. The reflections are always a challenge with that building, and it almost looks like the cat is sleeping peacefully in the middle of the street.

The car seat felt wonderful. The heater blew warm. It was a big improvement. Control is a wonderful thing. At home, changed into fuzzy fleece lounging pants and a sweatshirt, I realized I had a sore throat. More exactly, just on one side. Ugh. Could it be from freezing all day? I don’t know. At least I wasn't freezing.

Kiki, the adorable but not snuggly cat.

There was a supper of homemade vegetable rice soup to try and soothe the sore side of the throat. Later, ice cream followed. Neither effort helped for very long, or even at all. Swallowing hurts on one side. Tonight we will learn now long I can go without swallowing.

After feeling cold all day and later enjoying a sore throat, it will be an early night snuggled in bed under several blankets with a book. If only Kiki was a snuggly comfort kitty, we could create the perfect tableau of domestic tranquility. Maybe someday. I haven't given up. It's only been 15 months. We have time.

random thoughts – Day 1,890 – (Tuesday) – crunch time

Today had a mission. The gas tank had been low since Sunday and I forgot to deal with it in my haste to get home from dance practice. The pre-work plan, since I figured I’d be up at the butt-crack of dawn anyway (and I was), was to dress and drink coffee. Once sufficiently caffeinated, the litter box would be checked for an offering made by the feline sovereign since last night, collect said offering, stop for gas, then deliver the offering to the vet when they opened at 8:00 so they can stop sending me reminders about Kiki’s overdue fecal test. This would put me back home in plenty of time for an on-time 8:30 login. Of course, today there was was no offering in the litter box and I didn’t leave the house before work. 

The realtor came today for the exterior photos, to get them done before a storage pod is delivered. This was rescheduled from Sunday when it was cloudy and the forecast for today was supposed to be sunnier. It wasn’t. Then it was. Then it wasn’t. The pictures happened, just not under the picturesque blue sky we had wanted. The clouds looked really cool, anyway. And now I can nail down the pod delivery date and get busy.

Dance bags and costume parts.

The after work plan was to bolt from the desk at 5:00, get gas, then head to dance group, arriving early to run through the duet with the dance partner and figure out how much stage space we have. At the gas station it was discovered my wallet was at home, and I had to return for it. By the time I got back for the gas, I wasn’t headed out of town any earlier than most Tuesdays, but I still got there early enough to check what we needed.

At least dance practice was good. Well, I messed up the duet, but I didn’t fall off the stage and break anything, so I’m calling that part satisfactory. One of the group numbers I'm in had to be run two or three times, but that helped. 

Dancers tested out costume parts for look and movement and all that stuff. I had my harem pants and top for one number, but I didn’t take the time to change into them and just wore my regular yoga pants and a hoodie. Our dress rehearsal date was set. As our dance leader noted tonight, "we are not in play time, we are in crunch time." For me, it's crunch time on many levels -- dance, work, house, life.

Crunch time.

On the ride home, the car activated the autopilot feature and pulled itself into Market Basket. I didn’t know why I was there, but there was plenty of parking. I looked at the prepared salads and the discount bakery items and bought chicken cranberry finger sandwiches, cherry ice cream with chocolate chunks, and a box of Crunch 'n Munch from a display at the register. Even now, I still don’t know why I was there. But I have ice cream and Crunch 'n Munch, taking crunch time literally.

random thoughts – Day 1,889 – (Monday) – long day

It’s been very light in the mornings, which wakes me up too early and then I can’t get back to sleep. The next thing I know, I’m up, dressed, and drinking coffee a half hour before the alarm setting.

The early rising allows for more leisure and even chores before work. This morning, I picked up a book I haven't touched since the wrist was freshly broken and the 600 page tome was too hard to hold. The kickplate below the front door was painted and the threshold at the side door got a second coat of paint. It was quick work, barely 15 minutes, and it used up the rest of that can of paint. There was a breakfast of coffee and matzo brie (two eggs scrambled with half of a matzo cracker). The driveway was swept (again) to deal with the annoying helicopter tree thingies that blow in.

Even more x-rays.

The afternoon included another visit to the surgeon’s office for a follow-up for the crunchy wrist. It is stiff and sore in the morning and is still bad whenever I need to grasp and twist or pull (like pulling weeds or opening jars). There were more x-rays and the doctor said the bone looks good and the problem is the tendon rubbing as it passes over the plate, as noted the last time. 

The current thinking is that the plate will need to come out, but it’s still too early to do it. There is a chance I would need a cast after plate removal. We’re in wait and see mode, and I need to go back in six weeks. It seems that the sh*t show known as 2025 is loaded with gifts that keep on giving. 

Food planning was practiced today. After the proper breakfast, lunch was leftover pizza from Saturday. For supper, the minimal hunger level allowed for time to cook the brown rice that requires 45 minutes. Healthier food is time consuming.

While the rice cooked, there was a debate about what to have with it, because the initial plan of rice hadn’t been fully developed. The pantry was ravaged and in the end, the rice was mixed with some spaghetti sauce, canned diced tomatoes with chilis, red pepper flakes, green pepper, onion, and black beans and topped with queso. There is more plain rice left for a cold salad or cheese and broccoli, or some other combination.

After supper, time was spent in the horror show of the guest room that never was. It’s horrifying, because the stuff loaded in there when I first moved in is mostly still there, plus the new junk that has accumulated in the past nearly nine years.

There are costumes from when my sister and I were teenagers dancing ballet. Miles of net and chiffon skirts in an array of colors from when we were dust motes, sun rays, dragonflies, and god only knows what else are stuffed into a bag and a box. For ages, they lived at Mom’s, but somewhere along the line, I became the custodian.

There are binders with years of B&W negatives and more with color slides. There are boxes of loose photos, matted photos, and dozens of matted and framed photos. The darkroom bag, unused since the Tennessee times, is still packed with whatever was needed for whatever process we were working with the last time I took the alternative processes class at Austin Peay State University Community School for the Arts.

There is a big tub of completed jewelry and tie-dyed tops from when I was selling at a farmer’s market and craft fairs. I haven’t done any markets since I moved to Lowell, but does that mean I never will again? I don’t know. Do I want to do an Etsy shop? Probably not. Or maybe. I don’t know. There were several more random vintage clothing items found in the junk room which need to be added to the items gathered on Sunday.

After an hour, the only “progress” was familiarity with the contents of four big tubs, a new pile begun for a charity drop, and consolidation of some Halloween costume elements in a storage bag. I was really hoping to find the dance top and belt I’ve been searching for over the past several weeks in the Halloween stuff, but that didn't happen. I have run out of places to look for the items I held in my hands last fall. 

There was a single brown paper shopping bag filled with gift wrap remnants, some random small boxes, and some very sturdy tubes that I really had to convince myself to discard because they are really good tubes that were saved for potential use in some still unimagined art project. They are much sturdier than the flimsy tubes in the paper towel rolls. And I’m pretty sure I will suddenly urgently need them five minutes after the recycle truck rolls away next Monday, but for now, they are in the bin.

The wind was strong all day, and it was cloudy again. It's been so cloudy the past couple nights that it's been dark at 7:00, which stinks. The sunset was noted as 8:05 for today, but there was no long evening light to enjoy thanks to the cloud cover. It feels like life is playing lots of little pranks. 

random thoughts – Day 1,888 – (Sunday) – workin' it

It was a full day. Before heading off to dance practice, I laid down a coat of paint on the threshold between the enclosed porch and open deck. I swept the driveway, which was full of sand left from the winter storms, thousands of dried twirly helicopter things from the neighbor's tree, and an unacceptable amount of large metallic confetti that mysteriously landed in my driveway and yard last Sunday while I was gone and did not magically blow away, despite my wishes.  

Future irises of The BungaLowell.

After dance, there was a weather-dependent plan to take the exterior photos of The BungaLowell. It had been tentatively scheduled based on an earlier in the week forecast for sun today. Instead, it was cloudy and sprinkling as I drove back. The photos were pushed out a couple days. By the time I got back home, more helicopter thingies had landed in the driveway.

There was time spent going through the clothes in the cedar chest to consolidate the vintage items and hopefully soon find a someone who buys vintage so I can sell it. I never wear it anymore, and unless I choose to resume my college-era starvation diet, it likely won’t ever fit me again. As part of the clothing review, a bag of tee shirts, skirts, jackets, and sweaters was filled to be donated to a charity, and then I drove the bag, plus a box of books and home décor items to St. Vincent de Paul Thrift Shop. I popped into the store for a quick visit and the place had more merchandise than I have ever seen there. Miraculously, I managed to buy nothing. I came close to buying a camo pattern hoodie for a costume component for an October performance, but the zipper was problematic and I passed.

Rhododendron.

From St. Vincent, I headed to Lowe’s for some bark mulch that is on sale at five bags for $10. There was a large number of bags that were ripped, spilling mulch all over the place and it was like a treasure hunt finding intact bags. 

Waze took me to and from Lowe's through neighborhoods I had never explored, which was interesting and also depressing. For as long as I have lived in Lowell (nearly nine years), I have spent a shamefully small amount of time exploring anywhere outside downtown. 

At Lowe’s, while being mindful of my still quirky wrist, I managed to wrangle two unbreached bags of mulch into a cart, then into the car. The bags were heavy and my wrist reminded me it is still tender. I kept waiting for it to snap all over again. With any exertion, the scar turns bright red, which is also unnerving.

Weeds were pulled and the mulch was wrangled out of the car and then spread in the front yard flower beds. The bleeding hearts are fading a bit, the irises are sending up buds, the rosebush has tiny buds forming, and the rhododendron is beginning to flower. The weather delay may result in better photos with flowering plants.

Possibly more mulch
than grass out front.

The front and back yards were mowed. It’s only Mid-May, and the back yard is thick and has been cut twice already. When it comes to mowing, I  think I like a drought better than a rainy season. Last week, the back yard was so dense and overgrown that it took about 40 minutes, but today, I was able to get the front and back yards mowed in less time. 

The front yard is pretty scrappy, so there isn’t much to mow. There is almost more mulch than grass out front because it's still the early, crappy lawn season. Usually, some form of greenery creeps into the yard in early summer, so in a few weeks it should be filled in. Or maybe I'll just get some spray paint.

As if all that wasn’t enough activity for one day, the litter box needed to be cleaned out, which Kiki supervised from her perch on the staircase. The week’s trash was bagged for pickup and the bin was rolled to the curb, and I could finally think about supper. The house is full of ingredients, but not any prepared food, so it was cereal with orange juice because I already had pizza for lunch and the rice I wanted would take too long to make. The various types of rice in the cabinet take from 15 to 40 minutes to make, and even 15 minutes was too long.

random thoughts – Day 1,887 – (Saturday) – salon, kitchen studio, pizza

It was time for my hair trim. When I moved from Tennessee and was living with Mom in Fitchburg, and then for the whole time I have lived in in Lowell, I’ve been going to my friend’s salon in Worcester. For a while, the appointments were every six weeks for color touchup, but since letting it go gray, the intervals are closer to 14 or 15 weeks. If not for my bangs in my eyes and some split ends, it might have been pushed out by another few weeks.

Freshly trimmed.

Very often, the trip to Worcester includes stops at Saver’s and Aldi, and sometimes the Habitat ReStore, but today, I had things to do in Lowell. I left the house at 8:45 to get air in the driver front tire, then had to navigate some extra traffic due to UMass Lowell commencement exercises. I arrived at the salon around 9:50, which is when I learned my appointment was actually at 10:30. Oops. It was a nice chance to sit in a lovely and quiet space and relax, and not be looking at all the stuff around the house I should be dealing with.

After the salon, the plan was to drop off a bag of books at Pollard Library for the annual book sale. Unfortunately, there was nowhere to park and I continued home. It was the last day for drop off, and now there is a tote bag of books in my car until I figure out where I want to donate them.

The afternoon was blocked out to work on choreography with my duet partner, who has more experience with creating choreography than I do and thank the gods for that. We made great progress refining and adding to the choreography in my kitchen after relocating the table and two chairs. As a studio, the kitchen is a pretty good space, except for the absence of mirrors. 

Later, after all the dancing and my friend had left, I realized how hungry I was. There was a green pepper and onion pizza delivery from the preferred pizza purveyor. So tasty. In some fluke of my normal pizza consumption pattern, I hadn’t had a pizza delivered since March 25^th. Unbelievable! Orders in April and earlier in May had been for a burger, quinoa bowl, and beef gyro dinner. 

Pizza supper.

I had been temporarily burned out on pizza after several consecutive work meetings that had pizza for lunch. As a little life lesson, I learned there is such a thing as too much pizza, and the necessary break from eating it really messed up my food planning for a couple months. With no slabs of pizza in the freezer, packing lunch for the office required thought. Planning. Assembly was required. I’m glad the pizza aversion is now over and food planning can resume it’s normal procedure.

random thoughts – Day 1,886 – (Friday) –a long day and a what if

Fridays usually have a vibe that I like. The traffic is generally a bit lighter, the parking garage is less full, and the mood in the office is breezy. The time often passes quickly and then boom, it’s the weekend.

Except for today.

The morning traffic featured an extra special dummy in front of me. This driver in an SUV pulled onto VFW and took a wide left as if entering the far-right lane to take the right onto Bridge Street. Instead of entering the right lane, they chose to overshoot the lane to go straight and then stop in the intersection, blocking access to the far right turn lane and screwing up the flow for me and the several people behind me. I was the a**hole blowing the horn for them to move. They didn’t move, but they lowered the window, tapped the roof of the car, and raised the window, whatever that meant.

We finally got out of the intersection and cleared the way for the drivers from another direction who had had a green light for several seconds and couldn't move. Vehicles flowed down the lane, around the corner, and over the bridge and I was able to shake it off. Kind of. I focused on the latest display of brightly colored dresses in the shop window just across the bridge.

The rest of the day dragged butt. I was hungry and thought it was time for lunch, but it was only 10:00. I made myself wait until 11:00 to eat my lunch of rice, black beans and salsa, which I spilled all over my desk with an errant hand movement.

Kitty Yoga!

I took a walk to enjoy the 80 degrees and sunshine, and made it into the Lazy Cat Lounge to check out the cat-related items. The cat room was closed for their nap time but a Tuxedo kitty let me admire it in the glass doorway. It was too late in the day for coffee, so I bought a brownie. On the way out, I noticed the board with events listed -- like Kitty Yoga!

At 3:00, a colleague and I were on Teams Message bemoaning the glacial pace of the longest Friday in the history of Fridays and work. It was brutal.

The ride home had light traffic and the annual scenes of UMass graduates posing for photos near the stone sign for North Campus. From across the intersection, I could see this year's crop of graduates rotating in and out of the annual coveted photo spot. 

I don’t remember taking photos on the Fitchburg State campus when I graduated, but I was a commuter student so there wasn’t exactly a bounty of special campus memories for me. I attended class, went to work, went home to my family, and hung around with the locals I knew in high school, so it felt exactly like being in high school. If I could do it over again, I would go away to college for the full experience of learning independence and who I was.

If there was a time machine and I could have a do-over of a single chapter of life, I would probably redo college. The only other school I had applied to was UMass Amherst, and I often wonder what my life would look like had I gone there instead. I didn’t go because I was p*ssed I didn’t get into the dance program (for reasons I never questioned), and instead of choosing another major and auditioning for the dance program again as suggested in my letter from the school, I scrapped the dream and went to Fitchburg State, my default school. I wonder what direction my life would have taken had I gone to school in Amherst with the reputable English program and dance programs. I’ll never know.

random thoughts – Day 1,885 – (Thursday) –flying solo

Rolling out to Nashville
to see Jack White 5-15-12.

On May 15, 2012, basically a million years ago at this point, I was living 45 minutes outside Nashville, and Jack White was playing a show at Ryman Auditorium. If you haven't been, the Ryman is a great place to see a show. The sound is wonderful, the seats are all decent. I had been to the Ryman to see Chris Isaak, The Raconteurs, a Grand Ole Opry show, and probably some other groups I have forgotten, and always liked the venue.

I wanted to see Jack White, but was a super single singleton with a very small friend circle and didn’t have anyone to go with. I hadn’t bought a ticket, but in the days before the show I started checking Stub Hub. The afternoon of the show, there was a ticket available for a great seat at a good price and I pounced on it.

After work, I dashed home and changed out of my marketing agency office clothes and dressed in some going out for the night clothes. The night’s wardrobe choice was a short black skirt, tights, and boots with a black satin embroidered jacket. Off I went, on my solo concert mission. And it was great.

I had never gone to a concert by myself. There hadn’t been anyone I wanted to see enough to deal with going alone. But Jack White and the familiarity of Ryman Auditorium got me out of my bubble and into a concert alone. And it was fun. 

It was hard not having anyone to whom to say “that was amazing!” or “whoa, those costumes!” A couple people complimented my clothes and the people seated nearby were all very cordial. Overall, it was a positive experience. Flying solo definitely beats attending something with someone who doesn’t want to be there, can't wait to be out of there, and is making sure that I know that they are doing it "for me." 

random thoughts -- Day 1884 (Wednesday) -- writer talking

There were a couple days of feeling rested and pretty okay, but those seem to now be historical footnotes and I’m back to tired. Or maybe it was the mostly quiet and extra low-key office vibe that sucked the life out of me today. 

Whatever the cause, the result was me fighting to stay awake in the space between work and an author event at Pollard Library at 6:00. I was very close to putting my head down on the desk and taking a nap at 5:00 but I was afraid the cleaners would arrive and I'd be embarrassed or they would think I was deceased.

An option for the time gap was to walk to the parking garage and drive the car back to park the bank’s lot. It would put me closer to the car when the event at the library was finished, but it would also mean dealing with Merrimack Street traffic in the thick of the after-work volume. The event was having hors d’ouervres, so going somewhere for supper seemed a bit extra.

I walked over from the office, pausing for a minute or two at the small grassy island loaded with American flags fluttering in the breeze in preparation for Memorial Day. It's more than just a grassy traffic island, it's a war memorial and the gravesite of Luther C. Ladd and Addison O. Whitney, two of the earliest soldiers to die in the Civil War.

Flags for Memorial Day.

The event at the library featured author Casey Sherman who talked about his many books exploring true crimes including the new book Blood in the Water: The Untold Story of a Family Tragedy. He started as an investigative journalist before beginning to write true crime books. He's written about The Boston Strangler, Whitey Bulger, and the Boston Marathon bombing, and several of his books have been made into movies.

It was a great presentation with lots of stories and interesting questions from the audience. The library has many amazing stained glass windows and the sun was really letting some of them show off. One window in a corner was glowing with golden light but I thought it would be really rude to being taking lots of pictures of windows while sitting a few feet away from the guest speaker and only got some of the window above where the speaker was standing.

Stained glass in Pollard Library.

I was very tempted to buy books, but decided to wait until after selling the house and relocating. I must stay in downsize and declutter mode.

random thoughts – Day 1,883 – (Tuesday) – filling time

The view from the dental chair.

After being rescheduled three times, today I finally made it to my dental appointment in Fitchburg for a filling replacement. There was a hairline crack in the old filling, and it had been recommended for replacement many times before I finally scheduled it. 

The first time it was rescheduled was because I never received the insurance estimate and it was pushed to last December. In December right before a stretch of frigid weather, the furnace died. The replacement was scheduled for installation the same day as my appointment, and heat felt more critical than an optional filling replacement. The next available opening was in early March. When the date rolled around, I was sidelined with the broken wrist and couldn’t drive. The next available date was today, and thankfully, the stars and appliances and bones aligned and I was able to finally get there.

The view from the dental chair is the parking lot across the driveway and the entrance to a cannabis dispensary. They seem to have popped up everywhere. 

Why Fitchburg? Well, 8.5 years ago when I moved to Lowell, I never changed dentists. I don’t need to go that often, so changing just didn’t seem worth the effort.

After the filling, I took my numb-faced self to Forest Hill Cemetery to pay Mummu a quick visit. The sun was shining and it was a pretty day. The Bleeding Heart we planted at her headstone is blooming, just like its siblings in my yard.

The next visit was to Ocean State Job Lot to check out the grocery section. The big scores were mini panettone, Bengal Spice herbal tea, Las Vegas chips, and laundry detergent.  

I landed in Hudson early for dance group which gave me a chance to take a walk along Main Street. After the walk there was a review of dance videos on my phone. Technology really is handy. 

Dance practice was good. We ran through the group dances for the show, and there was time to peel off to a separate room with my duet partner to work on our choreography. It’s approaching crunch time with the show in five weeks. Oy. My muscle memory better hurry up and kick in to fill in some dance gaps.

random thoughts – Day 1,882 – (Monday) –aggravations and rewards

I had not even logged in for work this morning and was already receiving work-related text messages on my cell phone. Not for anything time-sensitive or critical, just some bullshit stuff that could have waited until at least the start of the work day and been delivered via a work communication channel. If I didn't need my personal cell phone for login tasks, it might have been in another room and I wouldn't have seen the message for hours. 

Eight minutes into the workday and I was already quite annoyed with putting out simultaneous brush fires. I couldn’t get logged into the program needed to perform a morning task that involves multiple departments doing a sequence of various reviews before account statements go out. It took about a half-hour to sort out. When it goes smoothly, the step is annoying, but when there are glitches it is just pure punishment. Guess what I won't miss for one single second after the merger? 

At the same time I was fighting with my login for the one task, random questions were coming in from colleagues about other projects that seemed on track but were now fishtailing. I was glad to have at least enjoyed a nice little breakfast before logging in and meeting the many little annoyances. 

The morning’s sustenance was raisin bran with orange juice. Not everyone’s cup of tea so to speak, but I like OJ and I don’t like milk, so it works for me. Today’s breakfast was made possible by the craving for orange juice that hit hard last week and prompted me to visit the grocery store. 

By lunchtime I was starving (right on schedule), but the other recent craving of rice and black beans was available for a quick reheat in the microwave. It really makes things easier when I don’t have to think about food. Supper was some of yesterday’s leftover rice and veggie salad, with the addition of canned tuna to change it up a bit.

Ice cream with crunchy
chow mein noodles.

After pulling some weeds under the 5:30 sunshine and then bagging and boxing donations for a pickup tomorrow, there was a reward for making it through a Monday that was a bit too much Monday all day. There was dessert, and it was another delicacy for my highly elevated (bizarre) palate – mocha almond ice cream with chow mein noodles on top to add some crunch. Delicious! It’s almost as good as caramel swirl with potato chips. Next time, maybe I'll add salted pretzel sticks. 

random thoughts – Day 1,881 – (Sunday) – grass and life

Lunch!

The sun was shining and the ride to dance this morning was easy with light traffic. Our practice for a June show went well, and then it was off to my sister’s house for a Mother’s Day lunch. We had colorful lunch of chicken, garden salad, and rice salad, followed by strawberry and blueberry shortcake. I could feel the vitamins beginning to circulate in my system.

After the visiting and eating and talking and laughing, it was time to get back to The BungaLowell. The lawn was several inches high and needed to be addressed before farming equipment was required. The electric lawn mower is truly superior to the old gas-powered mower I used to have, and the yard was done without incident. The gas mower would have bogged down and shut itself off several times, but the beloved electric powered through without a hitch.  I was glad for the alignment of weather and health to be able to be outside mowing.

Mowing progress.

Hopefully, it won’t be so overgrown the next time I mow. The edges of the yard are still shaggy, ruining the aesthetic a bit. This is due to both the lushness of the grass from the recent plentiful rain and the tiny fact that, despite my best intentions, I never bothered to get a string trimmer. It’s the sort of thing I think of when I need it and also when I’m sitting in traffic in front of the pawn shop on Lakeview wondering what their hours are and if they have any string trimmers.

In the fantasy life constructed when moving to The BungaLowell, I probably wouldn’t even need a string trimmer because in that fantastical version of life, I had neighbor friends and we lent and borrowed needed items, shared wine and cocktails and dinners at each other’s homes, exchanged Christmas gifts, and had a jolly good neighborly time on the regular. 

This is not the neighborhood of my reality, but in reality, it's also not 1950. In the current real world version of things, everyone stays inside their own space and we cordially give a “hey neighbor” wave as we pass each other on the street going to from wherever it is we go and probably wouldn't recognize each other if we crashed carts turning into an aisle at Market Basket. Modern life can be so weird and isolating.

random thoughts – Day 1,880 – (Saturday) – chillin and cluttered

A chilly Saturday with rain. Hooray. Like we haven’t a zillion of them already in the past several months.

There were potential entertainments on the calendar, and when I saw the rain, I was glad none were solid commitments. Being chilled and wet at the Steampunk Festival in Waltham? Been there and done it that way a couple times already, so … maybe next year. Outdoor Busker Festival in downtown Lowell? Thanks, but dry and indoors at home feels more comfortable, especially considering how sick I was all of last weekend and nd into the week. Comfort rules.

The rain did stop and the sun came out, but it wasn’t soon enough or warm enough to dry the back yard jungle grass for mowing. By then, I was deeply mired in inertia anyway. The day’s plan to set the glider and a couple other things back onto the porch was derailed by a couple sizeable spots on the floor that didn’t seem dry yet. Of course, the rain arrived Friday around the same time the painting was finished, so it hasn’t exactly been Sahara desert drying conditions.

Viewing the mess.

The downside to the delayed porch setup is two-fold. There was the denial of the sense of completion and the ability to cross it off the to-to list. Boo. The best thing about a list is crossing off the completed items. The second downside is that the living room and dining room are housing much of the stuff from the porch. It’s bad. Overstuffed junk shop bad.

Kiki is freaked out about the shambles. When she emerged from her daytime hideout yesterday the clutter had been crammed in and she was confused. She retreated to the safety of her living room chair and surveyed the situation  (and me) from her perch on the arm. 

She went upstairs during the night and stayed in hiding for half of today. When I got up this morning, there was no morning greeting. No meows for attention. She stayed scarce and I finally found her hunkered down under the bed with the storage bag of summer tee shirts I wonder if it will ever be warm enough to wear.

The porch stuff is cramping her entertainment and physical fitness by preventing her from working on her time trials and agility workouts. She likes to start sprinting at the far end of the living room and race around the ottoman, into the dining room, hang a left and launch herself up the stairs.

Part of the mess.

The training path is now blocked by the porch table sometimes used for setting up flower pots and the bistro chairs that go with the table where the food deliveries are left. The bookcase that holds various flower pots and small gardening tools is in the kitchen. The bistro table food delivery table is in the living room. There are glider cushions and chair cushions and toss pillows all over the place. 

As a 24-hour paint drying situation, it wasn’t bad, but now that it’s dragged on longer, my patience for it is done. Maybe tomorrow after dance practice and a family Mother’s Day gathering I can set things back. And mow the lawn. I hope. Fingers crossed.

random thoughts – Day 1,879 – (Friday) – tasks and cats

Fresh porch paint.

Project paint the porch is now complete. The walls painted under tough lighting conditions Thursday evening were touched up this morning. The alarm went off, I tossed a sweatshirt over my pajamas, and by 6:45 I was busy touching up the flaws by daylight. For a couple days, there has been a sleek black cat wandering the neighborhood meowing its heart out. This morning, the meowing was the musical soundtrack to the painting activity. Like yesterday, a girl from across the street was trying to get the cat to come to her, but it didn't work. 

By 8:30, I was in jeans and a shirt and at my desk kicking off my paid workday. The professional handyman was on site, unloading tools and materials from his truck. The warped and peeling wooden kickplates below the front and back doors and the deck sliders are now replaced with fresh PVC plates.  The house, decks, and backyard vinyl fence got a power wash. This was followed by painting the porch floor. 

I meant to lock the front storm door to prevent the latest crop of solar sales people from walking in and ruining the porch paint, but I forgot. There were a couple the other day, and the process is usually to knock on the outer storm door, then enter the porch and do a shave and a haircut knock or some other patterned rap on the front door. It aggravates me to no end. 

If I know you and/or I'm expecting you, or you are delivering something to my address, by all means, enter the dwelling space which begins with the enclosed porch. If you are some door-to-door annoyance trying to woo me to your cause and/or separate me from my hard-earned money, stay on the step outside. Do not pass go. Do not open the door and enter the semi-privacy of my enclosed porch. And definitely, do not knock on my door with some stupid fancy knock. If not for deliveries, which are always welcome to be left in the porch, the doors would remain locked. 

Anyway. The threat of solar panel people led to setting a plant stand and a flower pot blocking the stairs and a paper note on the front door. The side door to the deck is barricaded by the glider. 

The day's casualties were few. A terra cotta pot on the deck shattered under the water force of the power washer. Because the porch floor was wet, the slider was needed for active entry/egress, and a white sheer curtain somehow received a schmear of the blue porch paint. When I tried to scrub it off, I wore a hole in the curtain. Luckily, I have another pair of sheers.

Beans, rice and more.

Tomorrow I can return the glider, the bistro table that receives the food delivery orders, and the shelf of potting materials to the porch. For now, porch furniture, rugs, pillows, and gardening tools are all jammed in the living room and dining room. It’s chaos. Tomorrow, the comedy portion of the project will resume when I try to wrangle the glider back into the porch without destroying the newly painted floor. Then I need to gather up clothes and housewares for a donation pickup on Tuesday, which helps with the declutter/downsize pre-move effort.

Tonight, it was nice to sit quietly after work and relax a bit. There was no task list or pressing timeline. My legs are feeling smoked from climbing up and down the step stool 10,000 times over the past couple days. 

There was a bowl of black beans, meat substitute crumbles, rice, salsa, queso, and corn chips, and Netflix (The Four Seasons then Tuiskoms). Before long and like last night, the evening quiet was interrupted by the black kitty outside meowing again. Kiki cocked her head for a second, but then resumed her usual nonchalant amble around the house before perching on the arm of the chair.

random thoughts – Day 1,878 – (Thursday) – paint math

There have been two purchases of paint for the porch. The first was for the upper half of the walls that are all windows. Ten windows, surrounded by various widths of framing and a wonderfully wide sill below. One quart took care of that, plus some door frames and other random bits.

The second purchase, paint for the bead board on the half walls under the windows, the one tall wall, plus the floor got confusing. I asked for a quart of wall paint and a quart of floor paint, having read that floor paints are more durable to handle the wear and tear. The clerk confessed they only knew how to push the buttons to mix the colors, then had to leave the counter and try to reach the boss to relay my question. Upon returning, they said that the boss said that floor and wall paint are the same. Which was then amended to a confession they don’t have floor paint and maybe I could check Sherwin Williams. And then in a conspiratorial whisper, “or maybe our competitor has it.” I didn’t have time to be checking other retailers. 

I really miss the Ace Hardware that used to be around the corner. You could enter with a question or a situation and get actual answers and solutions. It's now a barber shop and an appliance store, just a block from another barber shop and appliance store. The upstairs kitchen showroom is now apartments.

After an hour's work in the morning.

I rolled the dice and asked for whatever they have. It seemed two quarts would handle the job based on measurements, and that’s where the paint math got weird. A gallon cost $44, but two quarts would be $42 ($21 each). So, yeah, I bought the gallon. I will be a painting fiend, covering everything in sight in “Time’s Current” blue. Foundation? Bulkhead? Sure, why not? Will it be the right formula paint for the job? Probably not. Might it happen anyway? Probably. Maybe.

An hour before work today was spent painting the short walls and a lot was accomplished. It was with this confidence that I boldly stepped into the after-work paint session. There was some initial debate over mowing the suddenly shaggy lawn while it wasn’t raining or getting straight to the painting, but bouyed by the morning paint success, it was straight to painting.  

Dark evening sky and gloom
meant twice as long to paint.

It was cloudy and dark, and by 6:30, I had to put the light on. Located approximately in the center of the ceiling, it increased the level of difficulty due to shadows. It was hard to see how the coverage was and I felt like I needed a miner’s hat. Things really slowed down. It took two hours to accomplish what took one hour in the morning when there was decent light. Work will be required in the light of day to touch up tonight’s efforts. The floor will be done tomorrow by an actual professional with a clue, which was key to tonight's timing.  

I’m already deep in the “I should have done this ages ago” arena of thinking. And also thinking how nice the ceiling would look in the Southern haint blue I've imagined for eight years.

random thoughts – Day 1,877 – (Wednesday) –cloudy and fair

Pollen painted view.

The rain fell and blew overnight and the storm door and windows on the front of the house were plastered with a coating of splattered pollen. As a look for the house, not great, but moderately interesting as a filter for the view outside, adding a painterly effect and also a clear depiction of why everyone is sneezing lately.

There was a job fair at work today for those of us who will be released on the merger date. The morning was spent racing around the house gathering things that would have been collected days ago had I not been flattened with the stomach crud. I needed to find the padfolio I haven’t used for nine years and the business cards done years ago to use for writing applications and freelance work.

As I put on my favorite Calvin Klein suit jacket with my favorite Banana Republic black trousers and a black, green, and yellow silk blouse, I noticed the fabric on the elbows of the jacket was shiny with wear. Ugh. Hopefully nobody would be looking at my elbows.

The job fair was pretty good. Twenty-five companies were on the list including some staffing agencies. Tables were arranged all over the Community Room and a training room, each one bearing a logo tablecloth, jars filled with candy, and lots of branded giveaway items like pens, notepads, and what seemed to be popular, the lip balm that comes in a ball that unscrews. I took one chocolate square in a logo-bearing gold foil wrapper. The last thing I need is more stuff. I already have approximately 5,000 pens of various pedigree and branding.

My plan was to talk with the staffing agencies and then get back to my department, but I ended up also talking with several banks. It was the same conversation at every bank table and it went like this: Them: “What department are you with?” Me: “I with marketing.” Them: “yeah, we don’t have anything available in marketing.” This wasn’t a surprise, I had already visited the careers website section of every bank on the list. But things change and just because there’s nothing today, doesn’t mean that is a permanent situation, although many reps said their people tend to stay a long time. I get it, there has been no turnover with my current team for years.

Wearing a suit jacket in a mildly stressful situation in a room full of people was a bit warm. I was sweating, and when I’m warm, it usually means everyone else is close to heatstroke. One of the HR officers was trying to get the A/C to catch up with the crowd. All the talking was tiring, and when I thought I had run out of resumes, I cut out of there quick.

Back at the office, I discovered there were more resumes in my padfolio, they were just buried under the handouts the MassHire office had provided. Oops. Part of the afternoon was spent cleaning out desk drawers in between setting up ad reviews and checking emails and all the regular work. This winding down process is a lot of work.

Afternoon cover.

By 3:30, the clouds were heavy and low, and it seemed like it might rain again like Tuesday night. It seems that there has been more than enough rain already, and I wouldn’t be at all sad if it stopped. Thanks to all the rain, the back yard has turned into a lush jungle over the past few days, and now I need to figure out how to squeeze a mow in with all the painting and decluttering and other labor that needs to be done. 

Where is my clone? It's 2025, and I still have not been issued my clone, Rosie the Robot maid, personal jet pack, I Dream of Jeannie or Bewitched magic pack or any other technology we were promised was possible back in the 60s and 70s. Reality can be so disappointing.