When I was rolling the trash cart and the recycling cart out to the street yesterday, my neighbor walked across and set the trash cart up at the curb so I wouldn’t have to wrangle both of them. Just simple, ordinary human goodness; a non-random act of kindness. We have probably exchanged less than 200 words in the nearly two years I have lived here, because we seem to be on different schedules, almost in different time zones.
When I got in my car to go to work, I thanked Heaven on my neighbor’s behalf and asked for blessings upon his head. Do you think that maybe Father knew I was a little more tired than usual and could use a smidgen of help: not enough to make me say, “Oh no, no, no, I can handle it myself.” Just enough to let me know that He was mindful of me.
I stopped at Racetrac on the way in and put some gas into the car and got a mug of hot chocolate. Nearly left my keys on the counter at Racetrac after paying for everything, but some kind soul handed them to me.
When I got to work, there were enough people out of the office that I got to use someone’s monthly parking. When I rode up in the elevator, I spoke with the statuesque brunette who rode up with me, after a man in a suit sighed heavily as the doors opened and he stepped out onto his floor to begin his workday.
“Wow, pretty sad when that’s the instinctive reaction to the start of the day.” She nodded and smiled.
I got the report transcribed which I had begun on Monday afternoon, all of my attorney’s dictation, put my mail in the bins to go out at the end of the day, delegated (reluctantly) the mailing of an envelope to one of our clients who spends about half the year out of the country. Because we apparently no longer have an account with that international courier service.
Met Fourthborn at the restaurant across the street from her office and handed over her Christmas stocking. Called the LipDudette, who shares space with my NailDude, but she had no walk-ins until a few minutes before I needed to be at church to open up the building. Maybe I can see her on Saturday, between sessions of General Conference.
Called Secondborn to find out where a DMV is in Fort Worth, in case the one in Arlington was full-as-usual. Ran by the Arlington office, which is blocks from where LittleBit and I used to live, and it was to the gills with tired people, so I just popped my head in and got right back into Lorelai.
When I got to the Fort Worth location, there was a line, but nothing like in Arlington. The clerk’s desk was just inside the door, and she asked if she could help. She looked me up in the system, and my Social Security number is already confirmed; I can renew my license from here at home, and I will do that in just a few minutes.
On the one hand, all of the digging and pitching and shredding of the past few days would appear to have been wasted effort, since I did not need to flourish my SS card in the face of some under-appreciated bureaucrat. On the other hand, I have rid myself of perhaps six cubic feet of outdated paperwork, which I will not have to move someday. There is a 13-gallon trash bag full of shredded minutiae. I know where my birth certificate, SS card, passport, and divorce decrees are. My shredder has had a series of nice aerobic workouts. From a baby shower invitation that predated the move, I gleaned three miniature clothespins (the kind with springs) that are doll-sized, in case I ever want to photograph the girls in scenes of domesticity.
And I have the satisfaction of having set a goal and worked steadily toward it.
I am looking forward to a full day at the job I love. The programming (or other) glitch that has held up the administration of the nuts-and-bolts of our raises and bonuses has been resolved, so later this week I should find out how that will impact my cash flow. Which is good, because whatever raise it turns out to be, becomes effective (I think) beginning the pay period which starts on Saturday and will arrive in my checking account on the 23rd.
Our 2nd Annual Service Auction went well last night. We had plenty of food and a slightly smaller crowd than last year, but a wildly enthusiastic one. I just ate a couple of slices of toast with some of the leftover Gouda and a mug of juice, and in my fridge there is a loaf of homemade banana bread with walnuts and chocolate chips. I am planning to make delivery of the brownies I’ve promised this weekend, probably on Saturday, and then I can take a break from knitting doll things to knit up something for the other bidder.
Today’s blog title comes not from a fall off the sobriety wagon, but from the simple fact that yesterday’s breakfast was that schooner of hot chocolate, with half of a double chocolate muffin leftover from Monday. Followed at break time with a 20-oz Cherry Coke. On the meandering drive which eventually got me home, I ate a bagel and schmear, washed down with almost the last of said Cherry Coke.
I have already done better, nutritionally, today; I mean to keep on in that vein. I have what I hope is a long, productive day ahead of me at work, and from there I am heading up to the temple. We are not having a presidency meeting tonight. Instead, I will serve in the temple and afterward spend time basking in the peace and sanctity of that holy place while praying for answers to the questions at or near the top of my list. No problems, thankfully, or nothing that appears to these mortal eyes as problematic. I just want Heaven’s opinion on a few things, and that is the best place to get a clear answer.
The place where Heaven and earth touch. The place where the Adversary has not one iota of power or influence. The place we sometimes lovingly refer to as “the Lord’s university”.
[And here some of you were thinking, “Wouldn’t that be BYU?”]
- 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!