“...there’s only so much space you can fill with bookcases in any given living situation.” Sad, but true. When I was still living in apartments, I had at one point something like seven bookcases in my bedroom alone. You can do that if nobody is occupying what I lovingly call the fallow side of the bed. You can stack books on that side. You can put a French laundry basket on that side and fill it with all sorts of goodies: projects to work on when the insomnia strikes, books to read, stationery for when the urge to write faraway loved ones strikes at 3:00a.m.
Currently the French laundry basket is buried under *stuff* on the Chastity Bed in what I laughingly call my studio. Might be time to haul it out, empty it, and restore it to its former place of glory. That would certainly keep other *stuff* from sliding off the back of the mattress, under the headboard, and into the Bermuda triangle behind my bed. I know there is at least one issue of “Real Simple” gathering dust back there.
I had another great day yesterday. Went to the paint store and yes indeedy, Faith’s sweater is Dior grey. I have the paint chip to prove it. And a new spool of lighter grey silk thread added to the stash, some clear plastic snaps that may go on the sweater once I’ve reinforced the back edge with the vintage silk ribbon. I may opt for traditional black snaps. (I certainly have plenty of them.) I also scored a small, high three-legged stool from the clearance table at JoAnn’s, half-price. Celeste is perched upon it as we speak, book in hand, looking for all the world like a petite vampire schoolmarm.
Got the oil changed on Lorelai, while I was in the vicinity. You would have been enormously amused to watch me trying to find something interesting to read amongst the stacks of “Sports Illustrated,” “ESPN” and the like. Yes, I left the house without my knitting. That will teach me!
Treated myself to an ice cream cone at Braums and thoroughly enjoyed it on the way to the health club. Had a relaxed, enjoyable workout: half an hour on the recumbent bike with the ghost of Irving Berlin, another ten minutes on the treadmill watching “Biggest Loser” in horrified fascination, and over an hour in the pool with no time pressures and water that was considerably warmer than it is at 5:00a.m.
A quick run through the window at Wendy’s, picking up a potato and a side Caesar. Cheap, fast, easy, and relatively healthy. Had planned to go to the temple again last night and just could not get excited about the rush hour traffic. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest, during the work week. But yesterday? Meh. I called Secondborn, and she had a Relief Society meeting, to which she invited me, but I opted to stay home and go to bed at 7:00 instead.
Woke up, as you can imagine, at midnight and have been puttering quietly ever since. A cheerful email from the new guy was waiting for me when I awoke. New guy = good guy.
Today there will be more errands, chiefly on the Dallas County side of the line so that I will be in the general vicinity when it’s time to be at the temple tonight for the sealing of my friends John and Lauren. After that, navigating by cell phone until I catch up with my single friends at the Plano Balloon Festival. All these years, and I’ve never gone.
Have read several more chapters this morning in the Annotated P&P. My snack has settled, and I am going back to bed. Because I’m on vacation, and I can. Thbpppp!
- 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!