Tender mercies and a modicum of dark humor.

My cell phone had a hissy-fit yesterday, just in time for lunch, so no surfing while I ate my tamales and my friends read their Nooks and Kindles. The icon at the center of the page (no matter the app) pulsed but would not morph into anything useful.

After work I found a phone store (right next to Charming Charlie, where I was hoping to find a turquoise headband on closeout, but did not), and the very nice young man took out my battery and put Humpty Dumpty together again. Until that point I was all oh please don’t be broken Idawanna buy a new phone just-yet!

Whew! My contract expires in April. I have dead spots in my house, and sometimes roaming as well. I have been with this provider since 1998, and they have done well by me, but I would get better reception if I moved to the company that provides our land line, TV, and internet.

I got all sorts of electronic confirmations on the changes I’ve made to my benefits package at work. They did, indeed, dial back my medical expense reimbursement account to a rational-for-me level. There is also a big envelope that came in yesterday’s mail that I did not get around to opening. Also a box from a friend out of state with a lovely surprise in it. I read the note to Middlest. We both got sniffly, but in a good way.

Exchanged emails with the funeral home on the status of their responsibilities to us and was, again, reassured that all is proceeding in an orderly fashion.

Middlest found my French scriptures, and they are not Greek to me!

Sleep continues to be much improved. Five and a half hours of it last night, with no interruptions. I awoke just minutes ahead of the alarm. Appetite is still erratic. I polished off the last bit of ham and potato soup yesterday, and two tamales with sour cream and guac, and I was full. That is a normal, sane portion for a healthy person. A little later I had a few bites of chocolate but did not want the entire small bar. Dinner was a bowl of chili at Braum’s before my appointment with the bishop. I wanted not-a-whole-lot of something not-fast-food-y, and it was excellent, and I enjoyed every bite. After I got home a couple of hours later, I made an omelette for Middlest and me, and some tots. And then we skyped with her best friend back in Virginia.

Warning: dark humor ahead. We have been getting collection calls, due to some mix-up when Beloved’s late wife was alive. He owed them nothing, so he has ignored those calls. I took one last Monday, when I was home making arrangements for the end, before we knew the end was hours away. I told them that I had a terminally ill husband and not to call back.

They called again last night. As you may imagine, I was not pleased.

“Hello? Hello??”

Click and whir and human voice. “Be-love-ed? Is this Be-love-ed?”

“Beloved died last week.” (Not “My husband died last week.”) In my chilliest steel forsythia voice. I am not Southern. Steel forsythia is the best I can do.

“Oh.” Click.

(To Middlest) “That was fun.” We snorted. Coincidentally, I got something in the mail from them yesterday, which will make writing a complaint letter to the power or powers that be, should they contact me again, ever so much easier.

Note to self: block that number. Of course, the problem will go away on its own if I decide to do away with the landline.

Bishop gave me a wonderful blessing last night. I didn’t need him to fix anything or talk to anybody; I just needed to tell him where I am financially and emotionally, and he said that it sounded like I had a good plan, and then he blessed me with the health and strength and comfort that I will need in the days and weeks to come.