I did two somethings-scary, but I think both were inspired.
LittleBit is no longer on my health insurance, so I emailed the credit union and asked them to apply those premiums toward paying down my line of credit. And in two years, when it is paid off and Lorelai is also paid for, all that lovely money will go into my regular savings account at the credit union, for the down payment on a house.
I’m always a little suspicious when I behave like a grownup.
I spent some time earlier this week, trying to locate a laundromat reasonably nearby. And I have come to the following conclusion: I live in by far the ritziest neighborhood I have ever lived in, even though the houses on my street [with the exception of the McMansion-to-be] are delightfully modest. Land hereabouts is worth too much to pop up a laundromat willy-nilly. The closest ones appear to be out by the old AFB. I wonder if there are any down in the ‘hood, near the chapel? Because there is a good ice cream and dairy store right across the street; I bought a gallon of milk there on the way home Saturday night. Presumably people who buy milk also need to wash their clothing when they spill milk on it?
Had an interesting experience riding home on the train last night. There was a young businessman across the aisle, schmoozing on his cell phone. Every so often he would use a vulgar word, and I would flinch. If I had been sitting on the aisle, I would have quietly leaned over and asked him politely to stop. But as I had the window seat, and another young gentleman rocking out to his headphones on my left, it wasn’t feasible. So I found a piece of paper and wrote the following:
“I wonder if it occurred to you as you transacted business on your cell phone that some of the words coming out of your mouth were not appropriate for the women and children on this train to hear. Please be more considerate. Thank you.”
He got off at my stop, and I handed him the note and asked if he would read it later in the evening, when he had peace and quiet. He said that he would.
As I was walking toward my car, he was exiting the parking lot, and he said something. Didn’t yell something or gesture obscenely, just quietly said something as he drove away that I didn’t quite catch. It might have been “Maybe it would be better for you to find something else to do with your time.”
It would probably be hypocritical if I were to call him the sterile hybrid of the union between a donkey and a horse. I think boor will suffice.
Oh look! Knitting! Two fronts --
in search of a back --
and a modicum of progress on Juno Regina.
I am driving in to work today; the boss is closing the office just early enough that the trains are not yet running every half hour. Still, lovely. But as I have mislaid my superhero cape, I do not believe that I can make it from the office at X:00 to catch the X:04 train, four or five blocks away. So I will be driving in, and because most of the attorneys in the office will be attending a one-day seminar, I will be able to use somebody’s monthly parking slot and save myself both moolah and aggravation.
And then I will run errands all the way home.
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!