Nevertheless, I pulled the foam sad-excuse-for-flip-flops in which I drove home from the nail salon out of the wastebasket and followed him outside to admire the garden. Are you old enough to remember Eva Gabor in Green Acres? That would be me. Only not blonde. Nor possessing a Hungarian accent.
Beloved, a/k/a Mr. Outdoors, has been fishing two days in a row. Both times the catching was as good as the fishing. Even his four year old grandson caught a 14-inch sand bass. All by himself.
He is sunburnt but happy. As he says, skin cancer is the least of his worries nowadays, though he did put on some sunscreen while he was out there.
I, on the other hand, stayed safely indoors, typing up a storm. I took an hour of PT and got my nails done and a pedicure. I like that place. I like it a whole lot better than NailDude’s. Even if everyone but me is chatting merrily away in what I assume is Vietnamese. Unlike the first place I tried after moving to Garland, I don’t get the sense that they are talking about me. They seem to like each other, and they seem to like their customers, and while it is more expensive than NailDude’s, the vibe is a whole lot better.
My brown clogs should be ready to pick up tomorrow. My sweetheart will do that for me while he’s out getting more stuff for the garden.
I spent some time before breakfast, working on one spreadsheet or another. When I got to work, I faxed off some medical receipts to my healthcare flex-spending account. If I had thought to take a blank envelope, I would have mailed off the name change application to Social Security, but that will go out tomorrow.
Later, gators. My body is screaming for sleep, and I suspect that Beloved is snoozing, out in his chair. Time to take my neatly-painted toes off to bed. I woke up a little after 4:00. It’s a little after 9:00p.m. Leftover orange chicken for lunch tomorrow. Life is good!
- 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!