Good day at work yesterday. I chewed through two days’ worth of mail, sent out drafts on three cases we’ve settled, and significantly whittled down my inbox. My attorney is on vacation today, and Attorney B has only one report for me to type, so I’m looking forward to a quietly productive day.
Payday. Tithing check is written. Birthday card for Beloved’s brother is stamped and ready to go. Utility bill is in Beloved’s pocket; he’ll drop it off on his way home from the temple. Beloved needs a haircut. I need a manicure.
I also need a new (cheap) purse, because my $10 wonder has just about outlived its usefulness. I spent 15 minutes or so on eBay, looking at tan leather purses. What I really wish I could do, is wave my fairy wand at that picture of the Dooney & Burke purse I saw a few months ago, make it large enough to carry everything I lug around (I have no idea how big that purse is, except as big applies to its price tag), and make it a non-designer purse. I want simple styling and excellent workmanship and nothing which suggests that status is important to me. I work with woman who carry expensive designer bags. And I certainly have areas in my life in which I am willing to spend that kind of money (cough:dolls:cough). I don’t put them down for it.
It’s just not my bag, as we used to say.
I parked behind Beloved in our driveway last night, so I needed to move my car this morning in order for him to get to the temple. On my way back into the house, I spotted a tiny lizard, maybe two and a half inches long and a quarter of an inch wide, on the front step. He froze. I carefully stepped around him. Hence the title of this post.
- 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!