Not rocking the look.

I drive through two school zones to get to the freeway in the morning. The little kids are just your basic cute short people. The big kids are endlessly diverting. I watched one young man escort his girlfriend across the street, arm around her shoulder protectively, eyes scanning the traffic. I have no doubt at all that he loves and respects her; it was there on his face, and there in his body language. Just wonderful to observe!

I’ve seen the lollygaggers sauntering along the crosswalk as we wait to make our turns (with varying degrees of patience; the world would be a happier place if more people learned how to knit). Yesterday I saw a very tall, very thin young man, headphones engaged, fierce expression, moving along the sidewalk.

Dude? The menacing glare is considerably undermined by that large pompom of a ponytail bouncing on your noggin.

[Remember when the bad guys in the movies had ponytails? The one in “Kindergarten Cop,” in particular? Carroll Baker, who played his mom, was a lot more scary. And effective. Kipling was right, and considerably ahead of his time.]

Just sayin’.

In legal humor, we recently received a note from opposing counsel on a case which is settling, asking us to make the check payable to their client, a lienholder, and the law firm. This is standard operating procedure, but usually opposing counsel remembers to give us an amount.

How ‘bout we give you $2.99? Forty percent of that ought to buy you a couple of stamps.

Crazy-tired this morning. Beloved was asleep when I got home from the temple. We are both awake, sortof, and I think would rather not be. One of us will get to go back to sleep after breakfast. And while I think I slept reasonably well, I woke up three or four times to adjust the covers or to roll over.

Beloved says that somebody kept throwing said covers over onto his side of the bed last night. While that is not entirely out of the realm of possibility, I think a more accurate statement is that Beloved is an accomplished cat burglar. We already know that the man has stolen my heart.

This will be a short(ish) day. The managing attorney hath declared that we may leave an hour early, and that we may wear sneakers if we wish. So it is likely to be a comfortable day as well. It is my last payday at the old pay rate.

I blew through my to-do’s yesterday, got everything filed, ran out of overworked friends to help, and so I spent a little time on the company website, playing with retirement figures. On my own, retiring at 70 (I would prefer 75, but Heaven and Beloved get a vote), and not counting any of Beloved’s retirement/disability income, I will be able to live simply but with dignity. Adding his Social Security, and notwithtanding his medical bills (I am interested to see how much my own increase over the next ten years), we will be able to live simply with dignity, once we are out of debt. And we’re working on that.

Breakfast this morning will be Grape Nuts and toast. We are having some of Wednesday’s most excellent stew for dinner. No idea what I’m doing for lunch, quite possibly goat cheese and crackers and fruit.

Tonight we clear out the hall between the studio and the middle bedroom, and clear out the middle bedroom, because tomorrow morning while I am helping to clean the chapel, Beloved and his boys will be pulling all of his mother’s food storage from the storage unit and schlepping it along the north wall of the middle bedroom.

The twin bed will go out into the garage. The Chastity Bed will probably be going out on the curb, sentimental value or no sentimental value. I emailed the RS president yesterday, and she sent out the word to the sisters in the ward, and I may hear from somebody who discovers that she has been wanting a Victorian fainting couch for years, and just didn’t know it. It needs a lot of work. I will be sad to see it go. But I am looking forward to having the middle bedroom turned into a functional office and getting my own computer set up. When the desks are out of the bedroom, we will have room for more bookcases, or a sitting area. Or something. At any rate, it will feel less cramped and cluttered in here, and that will be good.

And then we can seriously contemplate repainting, room by room, or more likely wall by wall. At which point my artwork can go up on the walls and mingle with Beloved’s.