“Did you flat-iron your hair?”

No, unlike some of my coworkers who have to spend hours laboriously straightening their hair or spend a fortune on the Brazilian Blowout (which, to me, describes a meal at Texas de Brazil, but I digress), this is the hair I was born with. I forgot to grab a headband yesterday (will not make that mistake today), and I spent a good chunk of the day tucking my hair behind my ears.

Straight. As. A. Stick.

I had a very pleasant surprise at work. I had been under the impression that the new attorney was my responsibility only while my coworker was on medical leave, and that I would have to give him back when she returned. My office manager clarified: I get to keep him! So I am even happier than I was when I went to work. I moved all of his red ropes over to my file cabinet, and I rearranged (slightly) the organizing bins above my desk to separate the bits that are personalized for Attorney A from the ones I will need for the new attorney.

I really need to come up with new names for them. OK, Attorney A, who served as a Marine, is now SemperFi (you might have to remind me), and I cannot call my attorney the new guy, because that’s what I called Beloved before I felt free to call him Beloved, and that just would not do.

Speaking of Beloved, he made a cameo appearance in the dream I was having just before the alarm went off. We were traveling, and I think we were staying at a hotel in Turkey, and I was emptying out my bag onto the bed, looking for something or other. Beloved and I were planning to visit an allegedly famous something (which is probably not in Turkey at all), and he suggested that I ask the concierge, or possibly one of the servants, for the best way to get there. And then he walked out of the room, and out of the dream, but it was nice to visit with him and to be planning an adventure together.

And it was very nice that he was the husband in my dream, not the children’s father or some random stranger. (Not that there was any mushy stuff.) He was just there, and everything was lovely and matter-of-fact.

I blame the setting in Turkey, and the servants, on season one of Downton Abbey. I watched episodes four and five after coming home from Costco. I am pleased to report that even though Turkey and servants featured in my dream, my behavior was (unlike Lady Mary’s) entirely suitable.

I seem to have been smacked upside the head by the Italics Fairy this morning.

The Costco trip was uneventful. I picked up Squishy and Mel, opened my own account, which they will share, and had the nice woman at Costco shred Beloved’s card (on another son’s account) while we were there. I also purchased at least $150 less than I would have, had Beloved been along for the trip. I miss him, and the grocery stores miss him, and the garden will miss him this spring, but my food budget is heaving a sigh of relief.

No more supplements that are useful in fighting cancer. No more massive quantities of frozen fruit for smoothies. I am drinking up the case and a half of Ensure at the rate of two or three bottles a week. If I slug one down on the drive to church on Sunday, I can get through three hours of meetings without falling over. I simply adjust the other components of breakfast accordingly.

Speaking of breakfast, I had better get moving. I changed up my routine a little this morning and have already performed my ablutions. And I laid out part of what I want to wear today, before retiring last night. Consequently, it is now a little after 6:30, and I could walk out the door in ten minutes if I chose. (I don’t, but I could.)