random thoughts – Day 1,840 – (Monday) – more eggs and words

The David Sedaris show was hilarious, as expected, and as delivered each time I have seen him. It felt so good to laugh. My friends and I arrived in Keene early enough to walk around and choose a place to eat before getting into the pre-show book signing line. Half the time we were walking in the chilly air, we wondered if David Sedaris himself would be in a local eatery and if so, which one he might be at. We ended up in the Mexican restaurant next to the theater and chose a table near the window so we could keep watch. There were lots of dogs being walked in a Sunday evening in Downtown Keene.

Too slow with the camera.

Just a few minutes before the theater doors were supposed to open and while waiting for the check after a delicious meal, my friend and I whisper-yelled “that’s him, that’s him” as Sedaris approached and then walked by the restaurant in a flash of silver lace-up glossy oxfords, a red patterned baggy shorts/skirt piece, a long white shirt, and beautifully tailored black jacket. Unfortunately, instead of being inches from hand at the ready, my phone was jammed into my tiny purse and by the time I fumbled it out, unlocked it, and opened the camera, he had passed by our window. I barely got a photo of his back. We learned during the show the ensemble was the designer label Comme de Garcon. 

It was cold in the book signing line that eventually extended down the block behind us. We chose from the big selection of books and worried in the line we might say something ridiculous that will land us in a future show. When it was our turn, the three of us stood at the table and had a great chat with David while he signed and drew in our books. He asked if I had children, and my standard response of “No, I forgot to do that” popped out. The topic continued to David wondering why it’s always seemed ok to ask women that question, Bible names and how funny they would be today and how Methuselah would likely be called “Meth,” ways parents punished us as kids, and other random and fun tidbits.

After the show, we were able to exit quickly and get to the car. We were on the foggy roads headed to my friends’ house. This morning, it was still foggy, or maybe it was all over again. My friends had to work, and I waited until 9:00 to head home, thinking I could avoid some of the morning commuter traffic. The winding wooded roads looked mysterious and slightly creepy in the autumnal bare tree mood. There were still patches of snow.

It was a vacation day for me, and I briefly considered continuing up 495 to visit the beach, just because I could. Instead, I got practical and boring and the spontaneity was redirected to Market Basket instead and then home. Kiki was scarce. I yelled greetings and meowed and there was not a single Kiki syllable in response.

Egg and cottage cheese bake.

It was 5:00 and I was mixing eggs, cottage cheese, cheddar, spinach, tomato, and pepperoni for a version of what seems to be the new trend in baked egg  dishes before she showed herself. It seems I was being punished for having been gone for 24 hours. 

Kiki meowed at me from under the dining room table for the 15 minutes it took to mix the egg mess and it felt like forever. Once I sat on the couch, she  seemed to have forgiven me and came over for head rubs. My sweet baby girl. 

As for the egg dish – it was okay. It sounded a lot better in the recipe posted on Facebook than it tasted in my mouth. Maybe I can doctor it up the next time. 

random thoughts – Day 1,839 – (Sunday) – eggs and words

This morning I was finally back to the studio for dance practice. I hadn’t been there since early February due to snow cancellations and then the wrist thing. It went pretty well in that I remembered all the dances, but the wrist was very fatigued afterward. I understood the driving ban with every little twinge while en route to and from class.

After dance, there was a quick brunch at 873 Tavern. A veggie omelette with hash browns and toast hit the spot. The hash browns were extra crispy and delicious. 

Then, it was off to see my friends for a quick visit before we headed out to Keene, NH to see David Sedaris. After the tickets were bought for Keene, other shows were announced in the area on days that might have been more convenient for being up late (as in, not a Sunday night with work the next day). The same thing has happened to a colleague with concert tickets. It's definitely a thing. But you can't not buy the tickets for the certain event because you're holding out for hopes of a different date or location that doesn't exist yet. That can result in "missing the boat," as my parents used to say.

And in news of other writers who I love, I saw Saturday night that Margaret Renkl, whose work I adore, will be in my area in a couple weeks. I saw her speak at the Clarksville Writer's Conference (possibly the first one ever) while living in Tennessee. She will be at The Bull Run in Shirley for a brunch with the author event, and in another one of life’s cruel little tricks, it’s on a Sunday two weeks before our April dance event at exactly the same time we have practice. It was a brilliant flash of excitement (brunch with an author I admire!!) followed immediately by the dark sadness of it conflicting with a much earlier commitment for something I love. 

Instead of sleeping, I spent time trolling the Internet looking for other nearby appearances, but came up empty. In this case, I definitely cannot attend the brilliantly convenient location on the impossible date, so I am on high alert for other engagements. Fingers are crossed and I can do it on both hands now, so maybe that will double my chance of success. We'll see.

random thoughts – Day 1,838 – (Saturday) – out of the house

Today was the big day I left the house all by myself and was back out in the world. There were errands, an event to attend, and innocent fantasies about grocery shopping and visiting St. Vincent de Paul Thrift Shop.

The day kicked off with coffee like every other day. I was registered for a two-hour webinar with a resume coach that began at 10:00. There were five attendees from locations including New Jersey and Maryland, plus the coach. It was my third resume workshop in about as many weeks and each one has provided different helpful nuggets. At first, two hours seemed like it would be a long time, but it went by quickly.

After the webinar, there were two hours before the start of the event downtown. Pizza was extracted from the freezer and reheated for lunch. A product return was logged with Amazon, and I checked the hours for the preferred UPS drop-off and saw it closes at 1:30 on Saturday. Assuming, of course, I didn’t screw up the military time in which it was displayed. And why was it shown in military time? Sir, I don’t know, sir. Also, why was it spitting snow? 

The minute the car started I was greeted by the yellow “you gotta check something out” indicator. The last time that light was on by itself it was something with the gas cap and sensor. By the time I got to the UPS store to return the “elegant lace long swing Latin skirt” that was supposed to be for women but arrived in a child size version, the glow of the low tire pressure indicator dominated the instrument cluster. The driver front tire was showing 25 puny pounds of pressure, another was at 33, the other two were okay at 35. There was a stop at a gas station for air, because hey, it had been six glorious weeks without such a stop and clearly I was overdue. I accidentally overfilled one tire when I didn't hear the dinging sound.

Rainy day in downtown Lowell.

It felt a bit early, but from the gas station I went downtown for the event. The spitting snow had turned to rain, enough to take the umbrella from the car, but not heavy enough to use it. 

I looked in the window of the bakery but decided to not place myself in the path of that specific temptation and kept walking to the bookstore for different temptations. I hadn’t been in there for at least six weeks and things were different. There was a vinyl record vendor tucked in the back area where the used books used to be and the used books are now in a different nook. It's a small shop, but I still find it a little overwhelming when I'm not there for something specific. 

My 2025 4x4 raffle prize.

The event was the "Four by Four for Education" at The Brush Art Gallery and Studios. I checked in and a card with my name went into the bucket. There was plenty of time to preview the art on the shelves and note several that I liked, and chat with people, many of whom I hadn’t seen in ages. I was number 30 in the lottery draw and chose a mixed media piece with silver, pearl, and turquoise. 

The beauty of this event is how quick it is. It took only 45 minutes for the names to be pulled and the canvases to be chosen, but at the end of it I was exhausted. As I prepared to leave, I calculated I could home on the couch settling in for a nap by 3:15. Grocery shopping was off the schedule. 

Even with a stop at Family Dollar for coffee creamer, which expanded to include chips, popcorn, jelly beans, and mascara, the timeline estimate was close. I waited about an hour to enjoy the nap, finishing the series The Lady's Companion on Netflix. Now I can look forward to going to bed.

random thoughts – Day 1,837 – (Friday) – household hazards

For the last day of being on the driving restriction, my arm was letting itself be made aware of. The scar is really sensitive, the arm feels tired and overworked from the shoulder to my fingers, my wrist is larger than it used to be and my metal bracelet watch doesn’t fit right now. There are twinges from my pinky finger down the outer edge of my arm and in my thumb. The body that the arm is attached to also feels tired. I keep reminding myself it was just six weeks and a couple days that the wrist was broken, but dang it feels like a lot longer.

Dangerous furniture.

Tonight, a new layer was added. I bent over to plug in the phone charger into the power strip from a different angle than usual. When I stood up, I hit the top of my head on the very pointy corner of the bookcase. I saw stars. It hurt like crazy. Then, in less than five minutes, it was like it never happened, which was okay with me. 

There are certain challenges with a lifetime of being a klutz. Everyday household items can become lethal weapons and walking into things happens so frequently, it barely registers in my brain. A day or two later, I’ll being rolling back the mental tape, trying to recall what happened to leave the bruise on the knee, the hip, or the arm. They could (and do) come from almost anything really – the doorway, corner of the table/buffet/bookcase, underside of the desk.

I once punched myself in the face pulling the blankets up while in bed and had a bruise for days. Decades ago, I pulled a groin muscle moving a full case of paper with my foot. Earlier this week I dropped a metal spatula which landed on-edge on the top of my foot, and nearly burned both hands removing a bowl of soup from the microwave. 

Really, almost everything is a potential danger. It’s feeling like it’s time to start working on some bubble wrap outfits and inflatable furniture.

random thoughts – Day 1,836 – (Thursday) – random retail memories

Sometimes random memories explode into consciousness without warning. Recently, it was one involving a job I had while in college. It was a minimum wage gig at Child World, which was a toy department store that disappeared when Toy "R" Us won the toy store war.

I was a cashier at Child World (aka "Wild World" because we like nicknames), and like my high school cashier job at DeMoulas, we also go to straighten the sales floor. 

It's probably obvious that straightening a toy store sales floor is more fun than a grocery store. At DeMoulas, we had to stack the cans and jars two high and two rows deep and face the labels to the front. The dreaded baby food wall had a million tiny glass jars and it didn't take much for one or more of them to launch themselves onto the floor and smash to smithereens. At Child World, there were balls to toss, light sabers and bats to fight with, and all kinds of everything fun to goof around with while putting things back where they belonged.

When working night shifts at Child World, I was eventually assigned the closing task of going upstairs to the office to set up the cash drawers for the next day. The task itself was okay, but it meant I wasn't downstairs playing with the toys, and the office working conditions were not the greatest. The manager would also be in the office, seated in a chair to my left.

While he prepared the deposit of the day's cash and I set up the register drawers for the next day, he would edge his chair over closer to mine. Soon, his leg (and sometimes his hand) would be touching my leg and I would shift my chair away from his. And he would move his again. Eventually, I’d run out of space and would end up wedged between the office wall and his chair. The entire time the cat and mouse game was happening, there was also a whole lot of praying for the assistant manager to get upstairs to the office. 

I was a 19-year-old college student, living at home, raised to not question authority. It was many years before I cultivated the courage to say “knock that shit off.” I don’t remember there being an employee handbook with a section on what to do when the creepy store manager who is twice your age tries to get handsy, so my solution was to find a new job, which was probably the solution for most females of the time. I found safety a few doors down the concrete sidewalk at a shoe store. My time at the job with the creepy boss may not have lasted long, but the icky memory still lingers.

random thoughts – Day 1,835 – (Wednesday) – camaraderie and potato

The end is near for work life as I have known it for the past nearly-nine years. The merger is on the horizon. Colleagues have been notified of having or not having roles post-merger, and lately, every project, every once regular fundraiser or event or gathering has overtones of “this is the last time I’ll [fill in the blank].” I suppose it’s better than not knowing it’s the last time for something and having it brutally yanked away without warning, and in some cases it's a relief. There are some tasks I deal with that I can't wait to be free of.

In some respects, the looming finality is bringing people together. It’s possible that being no longer certain we’ll see person A from team B regularly is making us more deliberate and intentional in our interactions. Or maybe it's just me. 

For years, our IT team has organized and hosted the Baked Potato Day and raffle, a fundraiser benefitting Sun Santa. The team provides baked white and sweet potatoes and a variety of toppings and for $5 we would gather, load our potatoes with our individual choices of toppings and socialize. 

Loaded baked sweet potato. 

Today was our last ever Baked Potato Day, so it had extra meaning as we moved down the assembly line and stood in the Community Room saying, “dang, this is the last ever Baked Potato Day.” And it was the best baked sweet potato I have ever loaded with an obscene amount of shredded and melted cheeses, broccoli, crispy onions and bacon bits. It was mildly disappointing that I didn't win any of the raffle baskets loaded with grocery gift cards or lottery scratch tickets, because I had some plans for those winnings. 

One of the departments in my building started hosting a Wednesday gathering at the end of the day, and not going feels like a missed opportunity to connect with people with whom I won’t share the bond of common employment for much longer. Today I had the chance to chat with people I have only connected with via email or not at all and it was great. And sadly, it won’t be long before it might require a lot more effort to connect with this group, mostly because I'm not always very good at that.

Inside The Old Court.

Pub of the Month, a once-regular gathering at a local establishment which evaporated during the pandemic, has been resurrected. Tonight was the March edition at The Old Court in downtown Lowell. The place was crowded with my purely unscientific breakdown of 90% bankers and 10% unsuspecting innocent civilians. And every conversation carried with it a sense of finality.  Will I see so-and-so from branch administration again? I don’t know, but it was sure a blast seeing her tonight. And there was regret that in nearly nine years, I’ve had too few conversations with her and too many other colleagues at a handful of events.

Maybe it’s just me and the camaraderie was always there and I just wasn’t part of it or forgot to pay attention. Maybe it is just recently amplified due to facing the finality of work life as we have known it. In any event, I’ll take the comfort of colleagues wherever it is offered. Change is coming, we are in the same boat, and meeting up regularly feels good. It’s everything I had hoped for when I started working with this bank. It’s unfortunate it took nine years and an acquisition for me to finally find it.

random thoughts – Day 1,834 – (Tuesday) – excuses and progress

Taking on undertones of green.

The weather continues to be a hodgepodge. Yesterday there was some snow and then rain. The wind seems to be alternating between lead roles and cameo appearances in each day’s production. Today saw sunshine and clouds and the grass in the backyard is starting to take on undertones of green. 

On Sunday, I ventured outside to empty the accumulated coffee grounds in the yard. The nitrogen helps plants. Or something. There was a weird hole dug at the base of the rosebush. It’s much larger than the crop of holes dug by the squirrel. I filled it with the potting soil from a flower pot that was wintering on the porch, and tossed some of the coffee grounds around the area. 

Yard waste collections have already begun, but I’m still delaying the start in my yard. The wrist is still healing, the weather is still too chilly, it’s best to let the pollinators rest a bit longer – spin the wheel of excuses (powered by the hamster on the wheel in my brain) and win a prize every time (basically, a new excuse).

The recent declutter/shred old files activity has had an unintended side effect that isn’t exactly feeling like progress. The process of liberating documents from a cardboard box has led to the creation of piles in new and exciting locations including on the couch, the ottoman, and on top of the cardboard box they used to be inside. The box now holds some recycling stuff and will make its way out to the big bin. Eventually.  Soonish. At least by pickup day next Monday. This is the philosophical wheel of excuses in action with gems including “what’s the rush?” and “what if you change your mind about getting rid of that?” And so it goes.

random thoughts – Day 1,833 – (Monday) – earworm supper

Food is one of my reliable go-to topics. I eat multiple times most days, so there is almost always something for me to babble on about, which is a relief when there isn’t anything substantive or more interesting happening. It’s a safe topic compared to religions, politics, or world events, unless I mention my love of anchovies, pineapple on pizza, or breakfast cereal with orange juice instead of milk. In those times, especially in real life, the oven mitts come off and people are ready to throw down. But usually, the stakes are pretty low and nobody’s knickers end up in a twist because I said I ate pineapple and black olives on a pizza.

Today, we have another food tale starring my supper. It’s a love story of sorts. My sister and her friend introduced me to my supper item when I was in high school and they were in junior high school, but we might have been younger. It was during our days of being latchkey kids, unattended for several hours every day after school until the parents got home from work.  

In our youth, we experimented in the kitchen, concocting disgusting combinations to be consumed on a dare. We fought and broke things, then came together to attempt repairs and a cover-up. Our weekday independence spilled over to weekends and we were fully able to feed ourselves as needed and start supper for Mom as needed when we got a call from her to start the Hamburger Helper or the Rice-a-Roni.

One day, Sis and one of her many friends were in our kitchen with the gas stove going. My older sister interrogation elicited the information that they were making grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It sounded completely gross to me, and back then, I was not one to hold back from torturing my siblings for sport, so I told them how revolting it sounded. Somehow, they harnessed their super-persuasive powers to convince/cajole/dare me to try it. As much as I hated having to admit it, they were right and it was delicious.

Grilled PB&J is now on the short-list for when I need something easy, comforting, quick, and delicious. I think of my sister every time I make one. She had the option to tell me to get lost and withhold the greatness of this particular fried sandwich, but she’s kind and generous and shared the delicacy with her supremely annoying older sister.

Yum!

It was gray, snowy, rainy, and icky today, and grilled PB&J exploded into my consciousness after work. The perfectly sized frying pan was called into service, and in a few minutes, dinner was ready. 

As an added bonus, while I was spreading the peanut butter onto the bread, I suddenly remembered the annoying song the Tennessee boyfriend and his young son used to spontaneously sing, usually in a moving car when I had no chance of escape – “Peanut Butter Jelly Time.” You’re welcome. Now we can all be miserable. If you don't know it, you are lucky, but it's available online.

As annoying as the earworm was, it was a mild distraction from the ever present, recently extra loud and high pitched tinnitus, which was a bonus. And it didn’t diminish the crispy bread, warm filling, and cozy deliciousness of the supper sandwich. Grilled PB&J for the win. Thank you Sis.

random thoughts – Day 1,832 – (Sunday) – health and records

While recently sorting through and discarding paper artifacts (clutter), interesting things (crap) were found. Some of the medical paperwork was for long-ago, completely forgotten ailments and incidents. Wrist x-rays in Tennessee? Why? What happened? No clue.

Health artifacts.

I still have the hospital and insurance paperwork from 2011 when I broke my leg. That exciting event was the tri-fecta of first hospital stay, first broken bones, and first non-dental surgery, with total expenses around $50,000. It was also the first time it felt like I got my money’s worth with health insurance.

The paperwork was there from 2008 when I fainted in Los Angeles at a music festival. That autumn day, the public safety officials on site made me go in an ambulance to the hospital to be checked out, despite my insistence it was likely a low blood pressure incident that would be corrected by the time I got there. “No thanks” was not an option, and it was around $3,300 in ambulance and emergency room charges for the medical team to finally conclude it was most likely a drop in blood pressure. No shit. I said that the minute I regained consciousness, after already having enjoyed a lifetime of fainting and the cardiac tests that led to the low BP diagnosis. But nope, the insurance company and I got to share the privilege of paying lots of money for an answer I already knew. The $900 ambulance ride might have been worth it if there was a souvenir map and I saw some movie start homes, but that wasn't the case.

Throughout the courses of my days, most injuries have been on my left side. The only right-side injury I can recall is an episode of carpal tunnel syndrome that led to me becoming a lefty on lots of regular, everyday actions.

A freshman year cheerleading tryout injury resulted in a torn left hamstring and being unable to complete the tryout, but once I was healed and got back into the ballet studio, that leg was much more flexible. Two fingers on my left hand (plus my chin) were split open and needed stitches after tripping on the walk while rushing into the house with my first blue ribbon in a photography club slide competition. My left ankle was twisted and ended up swollen for days after I stepped in a hole while taking photos in a cemetery.

There was an x-ray bill from Tennessee for my left hip. Why? What?  I don’t remember, but that same hip is doing weird things now (again, apparently). When I worked at Kohl’s, I slammed my left foot on a display setup and ended up limping for the rest of the day and in an x-ray lab after work. And of course, there is the latest broken left wrist, for which insurance paperwork and office billing statements are still to arrive.

I’ve always known I had a high level of clumsiness, but seeing a series of ailments laid out in insurance and medical records is a bit alarming. And these were just the things in one of several folders, and only ailments for which medical attention was sought. It’s interesting to me that most injuries have been on the left side.

The mystery of the left sided ailments lingers. The next time I can’t sleep it’s highly likely I’ll be attending a late-night session of Google Medical School looking for root cause weaknesses that can lead to a tendency for injuries on one side.

random thoughts – Day 1,831 – (Saturday) – entertainment date book

Some dates have a history of fun activities, and I love how Facebook memories keeps track of them for me. In the early morning hours of March 22, 2009, after leaving Dave Attell’s show at Zanie’s in Nashville, I declared on Facebook, “Wicked funny good time.” I barely remember it now, and might not have at all if not for the memories feature. As for Dave Attell, I haven’t heard his name in ages, but an Internet search tells me he is still out there doing standup. I wonder if I would still find him as funny as I used to.

St. Urho dinner, Saima Park, 2015.

Back in 2015, I went with family to a St. Urho dinner at Saima Park in Fitchburg and we were in a decorated hat contest. I remember the dinner and contest and decorating the hats before we went, and not just because there are photos. In 2018, there was a fundraiser event at a gallery in Lowell, followed immediately by the reception for a show in another gallery in Lowell that I had photography in. Gallery back-to-back events are fun – park once, and be a social butterfly in multiple settings. 

Last year on this date, friends and I went to see Richard Thompson in Derry, New Hampshire. It was my second or third time seeing him, but my friends had seen him dozens of times.

Today, the final Saturday of broken wrist home incarceration, was spent at home. There were multiple events happening in different cities including an art reception, a photographer’s talk, some craft fairs, and this year's edition of the St. Urho dinner, but not for me. There is still no driving for me, but at least I’m in the home stretch of it. I practiced dances, then puttered around the house. Attended an online writing webinar. Did laundry and changed the sheets. The wrist that has me grounded alternates between feeling pretty ok and more mobile and frustratingly stiff.

The incision scar forced its way into my consciousness with sensitivity that amplified when I bumped it on the edge of the mattress while tucking in the clean sheets. Ow! It remained extra sensitive for the rest of the day and into the night and all I could think of was Harry Potter and his occasionally painful scar.  

The Residence, Netflix.

Unlike some previous years, tonight was not a night of live comedic or musical entertainment, but that is okay. Not every day can or should be a carnival, and there is a live entertainment event lined up for next weekend. 

Tonight, The Residence on Netflix kept me quite occupied and entertained. It stars Uzo Aduba, who I first saw as Suzanne “Crazy Eyes” in Orange is the New Black. She was great in Orange, and I love, love, love, her in the White House comedic whodunit as the brilliant and quirky detective Cordelia Cupp. There is nothing like a well-written lighthearted murder romp on a solo Saturday night.

random thoughts – Day 1,830 – (Friday) –rain, wind, cheese

Kiki, morning
meow machine.

The rain woke me up early this morning and by 5:00 I gave up trying to get back to sleep and got up. Kiki, who had been downstairs meowing her morning song, seemed puzzled when I got up. This accelerated her morning hijinks of running to the general area where I am, meowing once or twice, and scurrying away. This happens three or four times while I make the morning coffee, with another performance as I brush my teeth before bed.

The rain stopped during the morning, and in the early afternoon the wind came roaring back with intent. It blew one of my neighbor’s bins into her parked car, and the noise startled me right out of my desk chair. Later, it knocked the same bin over, spilling the contents into her back yard.

As the day transitioned from 5:00 end-of-workday to 5:01 start-of-the-weekend, I started feeling tired, chilly, and my back felt sensitive and crawly like it does when I’m sick. Again. This seems to be my recent weekend status. I will tolerate it (grudgingly) this weekend, but next weekend the doctor’s wrist-healing driving ban will be lifted, and I’ll be mighty miffed if I feel cruddy again then.

Grilled cheese comfort.

Time was spent before supper on resume refinements and looking at job postings. Ugh. This was not in the plan that was finalized just last summer. It was supposed to be two-and-a-half more years at the current job, working and saving for retirement. By then, the car would be paid off, the new furnace would be paid off, and the outstanding mortgage balance would be thousands of dollars lower. 

So much for plans.

After the resume work, it was grilled cheese for some much-needed comfort food for supper – quick, predictable, and tasty. There was the extra treat of some pepperoni slipped into the sandwich, but not enough to make an impact. Lesson learned. Use more pepperoni next time. And plans are good, but they can blow up, so be ready to pivot.

random thoughts – Day 1,829 – (Thursday) – shredded

After a supper of homemade vegetable soup enhanced with a can of diced tomatoes with green chilis and topped with shredded cheddar, I settled in for a chore involving different shredding. The kitchen trash basket was brought to the living room and the paper shredder head set over the top of it. A pile of paperwork from a decorative bin on the counter was brought over.

Shredding.

There was sorting and reviewing of the heap of papers which turned out to be mostly gas and electric bills plus various statements and inserts. Before I bought a file cabinet for the little home office, paid bills had the payment date noted on them and were tucked into the bin on the counter in case the payment ever needed to be verified quickly. Most were dated from 2019 to 2022, but some were from as early as 2017. 

The historical nature of bills is fascinating. Well, to me. I got to see how low my cable/internet, gas, electric, and cell phone charges used to be. For ages, I have had this idea that the details of rates and usage and random notes and thoughts on various sheets of paper might be helpful for a novel that I will likely never write. 

Every few years or if company is coming, whichever comes first, I sit down with the shredder and get rid of the paper piles. Yes, I know about electronic bills, but no thanks. I don't mind the act of reviewing bills, making notes on the paper bill, and paying them online. And yes, there are shred days hosted by credit unions and banks (including the one I have worked for just shy of nine years) but I am either unavailable on the designated day or I forget about it until it’s over.

The shredder box in which the apparatus lives 99% of the time, says “light use.” The instructions note ten sheets, which I initially thought meant ten sheets at a time, but it usually overheats and declares a recess after about ten passes of one or two sheets. It also has a tendency to accordion pleat some of the strips inside and jam itself up. Then there is a period of picking the compacted bits out with a toothpick. 

Shredded.

By the time I stopped, 80% of the original pile was in shreds in the trash bag and the rest was sorted and set aside to go into the file cabinet where more recent files live. There are two benefits to the seldom done task. First, a mountain of paper disappears with next to zero physical exertion. And yes, I recognize that there wouldn't be a pile if I tossed the stuff right away, but that has never gone well the few times I did so. Second, it’s meditative. Feed in a sheet or two, listen to the whir of the shredding mechanism. Repeat.  Periodically, push the collected shreds down to compact them, end when the pile is gone or the trash basket is full, whichever comes first. 

Sometimes, I think the shreds would be great for papier mâché, but I haven’t done that for decades and I really don’t need to start any more hobbies that will likely be abandoned right around the time I finally accumulate all the materials and supplies and start to get good at it.

This is turning out to be the week to shed some stuff. Wednesday had an Epilepsy Foundation pickup of a box of books, a bag of clothes, and a box of housewares. Tonight, a stack of papers was turned into shreds for the trash. I hope the momentum continues.

random thoughts – Day 1,828 – (Wednesday) –felt like old times

I got up with a fresh energy this morning. The sun was shining. The air was crisp. There was a plan. 

A colleague picked me up on her way in to the office. I hadn’t been onsite since February 12 and it was starting to feel like forever. It felt a tiny bit like one of my favorite days from age six until 22 -- the first day of school.

The day’s schedule included our team meeting, Medicare informational webinar, delivery to an art gallery, chocolate chip cookie competition in the sales suite, and an end of day social hour in finance and accounting. 

It was nice to see people. The prolonged broken wrist remote work was beginning to lose some of the luster of peace and quiet and taking on an undercurrent of solitary confinement and it was nice to get out of the house for a day. The team meeting was cancelled due to an absence of updates, but the rest of the day proceeded pursuant to the entries on my Outlook calendar.

It felt like the pre-pandemic times. All the folks hired during and after the pandemic have heard about the many food and social events we used to have and are finally getting a chance to experience some of it. Next week is the popular baked potato fundraiser. Pretty soon it will be the final gathering of all of us. That one will be bittersweet. Part food and beverage, part games and prizes, part funeral. 

The Medicare seminar was at least the third one I’ve attended and the convoluted crap of Parts A, B, C, and D all feel like a big F-you, but it’s finally starting to make sense. I still hate the whole idea of it. 

The canal, 1:14 pm.

The treat after suffering through the webinar was a walk outdoors with a couple colleagues. Two of us needed to deliver our four-by-four art pieces for the upcoming fundraiser event and three of us set forth. From The Brush Gallery, we swung by City Hall so I could drop off my city census form. We crossed the canal and proceeded down Merrimack Street and Kirk and walked a bit downtown. 

The cookie competition was amazing. There were 19 banker bakers who baked chocolate chip cookies which were lined up with numbers. Bankers from the downtown campus swarmed the suite hosting the event. We chatted, we tasted cookies, we voted. Winners for “best tasting” and “best looking cookie” were announced later in the afternoon. The team members who organized it and those who baked did a great job.

The finance and accounting social hour events have been happening for a couple weeks, but I haven’t been on site to attend. Today was a great chance to spend time with folks I haven’t seen in a long time and some I had never met before today. There were beverages, tortilla chips, salsa, and a bucket-sized bowl of cookies leftover from the competition. It was a great day to be onsite.

random thoughts – Day 1,827 – (Tuesday) – outdoors and in

The snow is gone from the backyard and the squirrels were frolicking and digging random holes. It seems they are good at burying things and less good about remembering where. It must be what I look like when I misplace something. Today was a good day in the sense that I didn’t misplace anything and didn’t have to run around like a backyard squirrel looking for it. 

Evening sky, 3-18-25, 7:09 pm.

It might have been nice weather based on the numbers of squirrels and birds in the yard. Except for trying to get a picture of the pinkish evening sky from the side deck, I didn’t really have a reason to go outside and find out, so I didn’t. 

When Moose and Winston were around, I was outside several times throughout the day and night as they stretched their little doggy legs and did their outdoor activities. Now, it feels weird to go and stand the yard by myself. I feel like a doofus just standing there not watching and talking to a dog or two and I’m not really a sit on the stoop by myself person. I need something to do. 

Later in the season, it will be easy to take a quick break and go outside to pull a few weeds, but it’s too early and chilly for that still. Based on a few articles I’ve read, it’s too early to clean up the flower beds, because the pollinators are still winter sheltering and aren’t quite ready yet. One article suggested mid- to late-April for flower bed cleanup, which works for me in terms of delaying it, but it removes a reason to be outside.

Sometimes I wonder if other people jump through 27 mental hoops first, or if they just boldly go and stand outside their homes. I don’t think I was like this in Tennessee, but in my neighborhood there, the houses were further apart and mine was set back from the road, and if I stood in the yard and pretended to be a scarecrow, nobody would see anyway.

The outside will wait and for now, the focus is indoors. There has been studying of the contents of cabinets to see what can be donated away. Do I really need so many plates and bowls? Probably not, but some of them were Mummu’s, including items she told me were wedding gifts when she married in 1941. Much of the stuff I own was handed down from family elders and there are sentimental attachments, making it nearly impossible to ever downsize.

Mummu's porcelain shoes.

Once, as I struggled with getting rid of a pair of porcelain knick-knack shoes with chipped flowers and leaves that Mummu had given to me, Mom said, “you do realize she gave those to you because she was getting rid of them, right?” Well, no, I hadn’t seen it that way. I thought it was because she saw me admire them 1,000 times when I was a kid and they sat on her dresser. Oh, and maybe she was getting rid of them. 

Decades later, the porcelain pumps are still around, and now sit on my dresser. Maybe some day I will let them go. Or maybe I can be buried with them.

random thoughts – Day 1,826 – (Monday) – five years

This date, five yeas ago, was my first day of remote work during the COVID-19 pandemic. There had been a brief stretch of part-time remote work in 2011 when I lived in Tennessee and was recuperating from the broken leg. Working half-days on a laptop from my couch, leg propped up with pillows, was a short-time situation with clear start and finish dates, and helped preserve my income and my sanity. The house was abuzz with visits from the home physical therapist and roller derby teammates who brought prepared meals and helped with laundry. I was tired from exercises and medication and working. It didn't prepare me for 2020.

The first work from home space.

The 2020 work-from-home situation was initially thought to be short-term, maybe “a couple weeks.” I left the office at the end of the workday on March 16 armed with a notepad, some printer proof sheets for the annual report, a couple highlighters, my favorite blue Bic stick pen, and the snacks from my desk. That evening, there was some clearing and rearranging to accommodate working from the dining room table.

The fully remote pandemic scenario lasted for 18 months, and mostly, I liked it. It felt like an adventure, at least initially. 

The pandemic legitimized my hermit-like tendencies. The plentiful solitude of my youth and the many long stretches between partners as an adult prepared me well for the big shutdown that my more sociable friends and family members found excruciating. The years spent with partners who failed to pull their own weight had taught me self-sufficiency. I was pretty sure I’d be okay. Not having to deal with society for a while was the icing on the already potentially glorious cake.

Five years later, life is different than it used to be. Not necessarily worse, and some things are better. There have been valuable lessons and surprises. For one thing, I never thought I wanted to work from home, but once I was doing it, I loved it. I learned how much better I function in a quiet environment, which was a huge revelation.

Dedicated office space.

Working from the dining room table was physically uncomfortable, and having work be the first thing I saw in the morning and the last thing each night became psychologically painful. The purchase of a desk and chair let the weird space off the kitchen that never quite caught on as a coffee nook be reborn as a cozy and functional office space. At the end of the day, I can step away from the office and be done with it, a big improvement. 

When the work schedule shifted to hybrid in September 2021, I got the best of both worlds – time to work in blessed peace and quiet and time to be downtown in a noisy office with colleagues.

For five years I have written every day, which has kept me disciplined and sane. I dance more, sleep more, enjoy cooking more, and drink less alcohol. It’s been interesting.

random thoughts – Day 1,825 – (Sunday) – in training

The temperatures were allegedly in the high 60s today. I was feeling chilly, tired, low-grade yucky, and sneezing, and went outside only long enough to drop the trash bag into the bin and roll it to the curb for Monday pickup. A few things were set into the recycle bin before deciding it isn’t full enough to put at the curb. The estimated total trash maintenance time was two minutes, so barely enough to register the precise weather conditions. 

The neighbor set five of the six bins for her three family house in front of my house Saturday morning and the sixth bin this morning, because apparently there is an award of some sort for being the first one to put bins out. I need to step up my game or I’m never going to win whatever the prize is.

Strength training tools.

While it was warm outside (I guess), I was inside bundled up in a hoody practicing dances for the April performance and then working on wrist mobility by drinking hot tea from a mug. The objective was to lift the mug with left hand while keeping it level and not dousing myself in hot tea. Practical daily skills are essential. Not being able to do them is frustrating. 

It was a day of frustration. The mug kept tipping, the pinky finger side of my wrist would have a twinge, and I had to use the right hand to stabilize the mug. Baby steps. Or sips.

There were also mobility attempts at prayer hands (coming along); putting my hands on the front of my hips with fingers spread, palms to torso (mediocre) and on the lower back with palms flat (not good); and stretching each finger back one at a time like we used to do in ballet school “Little finger, and the next, and the next, and the next, thumb – two times, and all the fingers together. Other hand!...” I still singsong it in my head like when I was a studio helper in high school and led barre and stretching. There are other movements specific to dance that I work on and they are improving bit by bit.

Dessert!

Food happened, because it takes a lot for me to miss a meal. A cheese and tomato sandwich kicked off lunch, and later, veggies with Kalamata olives and feta cheese for an early supper (similar to "early bird special" old people time). Dessert was an Omaha Steaks apple caramel tartlet with ice cream, and trust me, those tartlets are tasty. My belly felt full, but the rest of me still felt dull, chilly, and ready for bed. 

As soon as it gets dark, I’m “hitting the hay,” as Dad used to say, not that our mattresses were ever stuffed with hay. Or cash. Or anything other than whatever budget stuffing goes into a budget mattress.

random thoughts – Day 1,824 – (Saturday) – grocery delivery

It’s the edge of the anniversary of the remote times of the pandemic, and today I resurrected one of the conveniences enjoyed during that dark time – home delivery of groceries.

The now defunct Amazon Prime Pantry with free delivery on orders of $35 kept me stocked with canned goods and snacks. Whole Foods kept me in produce, dairy, and ice cream. One day I noticed all the items in my “Save for later” Pantry list were discounted, but I didn’t pounce on them because I didn’t need them yet. Big mistake. A few days later, an email arrived announcing that Amazon Pantry was closed. Dang. That’s around the same time the Whole Foods deliveries changed from free for Prime members to having a delivery charge. By then, I was heading back to shop Market Basket in person and stopped the deliveries.

Last week, I went to Market Basket with Mom and Sis, and enjoyed lots of fresh vegetables all week, most of which have been consumed. I could feel the healthy benefits surging through my body with each bite of cauliflower and broccoli.

What was I thinking?

It’s still two weeks before I am medically cleared to drive again, but I wanted more veggies. And also ice cream. The online order and delivery at Hannaford was checked and I learned I had a $10 delivery coupon in my loyalty program account. The order was built, and I was surprised that many prices were a lot lower than I remembered/expected them to be. Then the cart was abandoned because sometimes my attention span is shorter than it should be and I get distracted (squirrel!).

This afternoon, I checked the Hannaford app and my order of 16 items was still queued up and there was a delivery window between 5:00 and 7:00 tonight. Yes, please. The button was pushed. 

At 6:05, five bags of groceries landed at my door. The list was successfully completed with no substitutions needed and I am freshly stocked with fresh spinach, broccoli, Roma tomatoes, and grapes, plus granola bars (forgotten last week), balsamic vinegar, salsa, queso, ice cream, crackers plus a free bar of Colby Jack cheese from a coupon, a few other items, and a question. The question is "Why did I order a two-pound bag of lemons?" Yes, they were on sale, but what will I do with a whole bag? And hasn't life been delivering a few too many lemons recently? There must have been an apron-wearing kitchen fantasy involving lemon squares when I added those.

Provisions!

I immediately dove into the green, large, chilled grapes which definitely won’t last long. The Hannaford “Overloaded Caramel Cup” ice cream was disappointing. “Overloaded” is a huge overstatement. It’s mostly just plain white ice cream and three or four chocolate-covered caramel cups paused long enough to be packaged. A barely perceptible thread of caramel about the width of dental floss ran through some of it.

I don’t mind doing my own grocery shopping. It sure beats some of the other adult domestic chores, such as cleaning the toilet. Once in a blue moon, scrolling through a product list and creating an order for delivery, then eagerly awaiting the delivery isn’t too bad, but I like checking out the discount bakery racks at the Basket, and that is something that can only be done in person. In a couple weeks, when I can drive again, the first road trip might be tour of the local MB discount bakery racks.

random thoughts – Day 1,823 – (Friday) – bread and veggies

It was a week of workdays that felt long, but the week’s project/task list was 99% completed by the end of the workday today, which felt good. The carryover items were pieces currently in outside production and more of a reminder for myself to make sure they arrive.

Grilled veggie sub.

Maybe it’s the closeness to spring, but today, I was hungry like a bear that hadn’t eaten in months. The day began with toast. Lunch was half of Thursday’s night remaining veggies and chicken in a spicy butter chicken curry sauce. It was delicious and seemed filling, but a couple hours later, I was hungry again and for a mid-afternoon snack, ate the rest of it. Then, a mere1.5 hours later, I was hungry again and thinking about dinner. 

After several days of meals heavy on broccoli, cauliflower, mushrooms, onion, and carrots, it was time for a change of ingredients and free of personal labor. The preferred pizza purveyor was contacted and within 40 minutes, there was a grilled veggie and cheese sub delivered. Yes, it was some of the same veggies eaten all week, but the grilling, tomato, lettuce, mayo, and the loaf of bread it was jammed into, plus the fact I didn’t have to cook it, made it feel special.

The plan was to eat half the sub and save the rest for Saturday lunch. It didn’t work out like that.

After eating half the sub, I still felt hungry like a bear coming out of hibernation. The remainder was unwrapped and in no time at all, was gone. It always amazes me that I would never just sit and chow down on a full loaf of bread, but stuff it with some veggies and cheese, and I can make a foot-long bread loaf disappear in minutes. So weird.

random thoughts – Day 1,822 – (Thursday) – moon, planets, plan

Fuzzy full moon.

There is a blood moon eclipse tonight, but I doubt I’ll be pulling an all-nighter to see it. I tried the sky watching thing when everyone else was getting photos of the aurora borealis, and all I got was chilly sitting alone in a golf course parking lot late at night. I got a stiff neck looking for the various meteor showers and the historic planetary alignment. I’m kind of over the overnight celestial stuff for a while.

The previous failures are one thing, and the other thing is I seem to head to bed earlier every night. Lately, by 8:00 I’m tired, chilly, and mentally preparing to go upstairs with the really good book I’ve been reading (The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon).

Tonight at 7:40, the sky was clear and the moon was barely visible over the neighboring houses and trees. As usual, the best photo I could get was through a dual pane window in the back upstairs bedroom, with reflections in the glass. The moon looked like a cotton ball hanging in the sky, like some kid’s grammar school shoebox diorama, circa 1970s.

Sportsball planet streetscape.

Meanwhile, out on the street at the front of the house, there was a lineup of various sports balls, looking like another school science project involving planets. Or athletics. Or litter. Who knows. Four basketballs, one orange, two brown, one black, with a small soccer ball in the center and a water bottle at the far end, line the edge of the end of the street. The basketball hoop has laid on its side all winter, toppled over months ago by the wind. 

A Chewy box, liberated from someone’s recycling bin during the recent very windy times, has rested against the across the street neighbor's fence for about a week. I noticed it while staring out the window one day, and several times I thought I’d go get the box and put it into my bin, but then I don’t go outside. Then it’s dark, and the last thing I want to be doing is creeping around someone else’s property. Maybe tomorrow.

In health news, my wrist feels weird at the incision scar. Not pain, not itching, just weird and sensitive in the spot where I think the new hardware is, and I start freaking myself out thinking it’s going to burst through my skin. The steri-strips are beginning to peel off and the vitamin E oil delivers tomorrow, so I’ll likely be obsessing over the incision area all weekend. It’s nice to have plans.

random thoughts – Day 1,821 – (Wednesday) – progress

Wake up, drink coffee, Wordle, Words with Friends, Duolingo, read, review dances. Work, lunch, work. Supper, Netflix, Duolingo, read, Words with Friends, bed. Also, avoid the news. Currently, this is life. Today, the routine was embellished a bit.

After weeks of thinking about the four-inch square art piece for the 4x4 auction fundraiser, the percolation period was completed, and the work was finally started. There had been daily trips walking past the paints on the dining room table and countless hours spent contemplating the treatment of the edges of the canvas block. Pieces I’ve done before had either solid black edges or several colors pulled from the photo and applied with a sponge in a layered abstract fashion. Options for this year included one of the past methods or extending the photo colors to the sides of the canvas to continue the idea of the water and sky.

Initial steps.

This morning, I woke up and just like that (*snaps fingers on fully functional right hand for emphasis*), I knew what I wanted to do. And the broken wrist is mobile enough that I could actually begin the process. Tonight, blue paint was applied to the bottom edges to continue the water and orange went at the top for the sunrise. Then, a light gold layer was added over the colors. 

I had extra canvas blocks bought last year and painted another one for myself. There was also a flat canvas that I tested the paint on. Later, the flat canvas will be stenciled with some design and then it will live in the drawer with all the other stuff I make and have no idea what to do with.

The hard part tonight was toning down the bright turquoise and vivid orange paints. Thank goodness for the Internet, my go-to home-schooling program. Over the years, the Internet helped me learn how to start gas lawnmower, knit chain maille, learn specific belly dance moves, assemble my futon, transplant a Christmas cactus, and countless other things, domestic, artistic, and medical. Tonight’s education was toning down paint colors and a refresher on attaching the photo and the sealing coats that will follow.

Works in process.

The canvases still have a few more steps. The one for the auction has the photo attached, one coat of gloss sealer, and will get several more coats over the next few days. The canvas I’m keeping still needs a photo print, because for some crazy reason, even though I almost always order two prints of everything, I ordered only one of the sunrise in Playa del Carmen. Duh. I wonder what I was thinking that day.

random thoughts – Day 1,820 – (Tuesday) - mixed bag

The time change of the weekend provides for more daylight after work, but the mornings are dark and rough all over again, at least for a while. Ugh. The alarm goes off and I want to toss the phone across the room.

Today's success story.

Part of the usual morning routine includes playing Wordle while waking up with a cup (or two or ten) of coffee. This morning, I got the answer in two guesses for the second day in a row. I have no idea how this happened. There must be something magical happening on this date, because on March 11, 2022, I also got the answer in two guesses. Facebook memories are fun for delightful little tidbits like that. 

Other Facebook post memories are less delightful. Memories from this date five years ago were of two events I was planning to attend being cancelled due to the advancement of COVID-19. And we all got to see how that played out. That's when I learned that the years of antisocial, hermit tendencies were the perfect training for a pandemic lockdown, so it wasn't completely bad.

Scrap piece art cards.

In 2012, the post was about happy fun times at an art party. The hosts had art and craft stations set up around the house and adults and kids had a chance to get creative. At the greeting card table, I chose to use the scraps left from other people’s cards for mine. 

After the art party, I joked that making cards could be my retirement plan, but that might actually have to become the reality. I’ve got lots of art supplies. And wine. Maybe I need to have people over for an art party. We could certainly use the diversion.

Back in 2011, the day's post was “earthquake. tsunami. upcoming “super moon” predicted to affect the world. yikes.” I had to look that up today, because I don’t  remember that event. It was an undersea megathrust earthquake in the Pacific Ocean that caused a tsunami and killed nearly 20,000 people. Holy hell. 

In America today, it's feeling like a tsunami of financial destruction. Millions of us are being screwed over by the stock market reactions to the events taking place at The White House, the chain-saw approach to government job slashing, and all the other stuff I'm trying really hard to not dwell on.

random thoughts – Day 1,819 – (Monday) – cinnamon toast and longing

Yes, there was a grocery store trip yesterday with a list in hand. And this morning, as I began brewing the coffee, I realized the item that was overlooked. It was the very first item on the list, crunchy oat and honey granola bars, which I eat nearly every morning for breakfast. Un-frigging-believable. Ok, not really. It’s totally-frigging-believable.

Cinnamon toast
and coffee.

The absence of granola bars in the cabinet, a situation in effect since the middle of last week, forced a shift in the menu. Bread was bought during the trip, so the backup was cinnamon toast. As a kid, cinnamon toast was my favorite breakfast, except for maybe Cocoa Crispies, which were a rarity in our cereal cabinet, probably because I would eat them all immediately.

I don’t even know if cinnamon toast was a childhood special treat because we kids had been behaving or if it was the backup because we ran out of cereal or milk or the dreaded and disgusting powered milk that was hauled out when the budget was extra lean. Whatever the reason, it was rare and felt special. 

As a fully grown adult usually in possession of all the ingredients for cinnamon toast, it is still a rare breakfast. Sadly, grown-up cinnamon toast isn’t quite as special as when I was a kid, and oddly, the dry, hard, crunchy granola bars are the current top breakfast choice. 

Souped-up soup.

Today was another of those days where food was the glue holding me together. Lunch was the veggie soup from the other day, souped-up with broccoli, mushrooms, and the last splash of the half-and-half from the opened container. Mint Milano cookies were interspersed throughout the day, with a side of “I can skip supper” to ease the cookie calorie guilt. 

Then, just as work was ending, I saw a headline about the stock market tanking. Here I am, mere months from joblessness, watching the value of my 401k evaporate like the steam rising from my lunchtime soup. 

There are not enough Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrots to express my angst. So, there was some suppertime anger eating. At least it was on the healthy-ish side, with roasted chicken, plus leftover fries from Sunday’s burger, and mayo mixed with Cajun hot sauce. And the rest of the bag of cookies because stress overeating is the go-to lately. Damn, I long for the olden days of my 30s and 40s when stress made me exercise like a maniac and forget to eat. Also the days when I was a kid and didn't read the news. Seriously. WTF.

random thoughts – Day 1,818 – (Sunday) – visit and tasks

Today had a plan, and it was executed flawlessly. This has more to do with my sister than with me, because we know how I love to make plans for myself and then abandon them by the wayside.

Brightness on stems.

Earlier in the week, Sis offered to visit and take me grocery shopping. Sunday was chosen as the day, and when it rolled around, there was a text that Sis was on the way to me, with Mom. I had an hour to try and clean the house to be Mom-ready and I failed. The kitchen sink was emptied and cleaned, along with the bathroom sink and mirror. A small-ish stack of paperback books was set into a box to be donated, and when I tried to move the box, a pain shot up my forearm. Ouch. 

I was using both hands and I don’t think the box weighed more than the maximum ten-pound lifting limit, but dang, that was a stern reminder to be careful. The quick tidy-up was abandoned. The table remained full of boxes, art supplies, and books. Mom and Sis rolled up with a beautiful bunch of colorful flowers and cookies. 

The grocery list had already been drafted and the reusable shopping bags gathered. It wasn’t a very long list and was mostly perishables – fresh vegetables, bread, half-and-half, feta cheese, and olives. We went to the big Market Basket on the Tyngsboro line which Mom said is like the one near her in Athol, then returned to the house to put things away before going out for lunch.

There was a brief conversation and internet search for potential lunch spots. Unfortunately, one of the spots I thought we would all like isn’t open on Sundays. We ended up choosing the dining room at Primo’s, my usual pizza delivery place. Our choices were cheese steak sub (Mom), and rodeo burgers with fries (Sis and me). It was a disappointment when my burger ordered medium rare was delivered well done, exactly the way I hate it. Even when I was a regular meat eater, dry meat was on the top of the list of stuff I don't like.

It’s not the kind of dining room where a worker takes the order, brings the food, and returns to check on things. The place has no visible menu beyond a specials board displaying Monday and Tuesday specials, and everyone who came in snatched a brochure from the rack labeled “take out menu.” The order is placed at the counter where the payment system wants a tip amount, a plastic number tent goes to the table, and after a while, the food is dropped off. I could probably have gone to the counter to complain about the overdone burger but I didn’t feel like waiting for another one. I choked down half of the dry overdone meat and sent the rest home to Sis’s dog.

Back at home, Sis carried in the 18-pound bag of cat litter that has sat in the front porch for at least two weeks. The trash was prepped and set in the barrel which was rolled to the curb for Monday’s pickup. We considered trying to remount the curtain rod fixture, but the more we looked at the situation, the more it started to feel like a more complicated endeavor better left for another day. We had conquered enough chores already.