The spilt milk of night before last was the toe in the door for more mishaps. Yesterday as I was assembling breakfast (schmear on a cheese bagel) and lunch (PBJ), I was zipping right along. Bagel was sliced and slathered. I had spread a generous layer of peanut butter on one slice of bread. And plopped a big blob of our homemade pomegranate jelly on another.
I picked up the slice with the peanut butter, intending to set it atop the bagel so as to have more room to wield the knife in spreading the jelly. And it leaped out of my grasp, landing sunny side down on the area rug.
The cat has walked on that rug. Three second rule does not apply. New slice of bread.
Silver lining: I was able to use up the last of the peanut butter. And successfully transfer the slice atop the bagel. At which point the blob of jelly made a break for it, landing almost exactly where the bread had landed. (The second slice, however, stayed put.) And I was able to finish making my PBJ.
But wait, there's more. I've mentioned that I am taking an alternate route to work. I have been trying different approaches so as to learn where the school zones are.
Yesterday I took a new southbound street, got to my westbound street, and when I reached the southbound street I had been taking, turned south again. Because that's the street I turn south on, right?
I had driven maybe half a mile before realizing my mistake. And I didn't know how to get from where I was to where I wanted to be, so I turned around. I still made it to work on time with time for knitting.
In other news, I faxed three smallish chunks of paperwork to the bank and successfully navigated their online application to refinance the mortgage. Exciting. And a little scary.
I'm getting another massage tonight. I seem to have worked out the kinks from climbing through the window the other night. The massive bruise above my left elbow has faded and is only barely tender.
I've managed several instances of organizational purging chez Ravelled since last week's massage. And I think I am hoping that another massage will encourage more of the same. Strengthen the body, increase the exit of toxins, boost the energy, increase the endurance, and see the increasing physical health manifested in greater order in my environment. That's the plan anyway.
I also made a quick run to the bookstore last night for a copy of C. S. Lewis' "A Grief Observed." I am not aware of feeling particularly grieve-ish. I only realized last night that Monday was exactly six months after Beloved's passing. It was simply experienced (at least consciously) as the day between Middlest's birthday and Dad’s. Yesterday I got the quarterly mailing from the funeral home, a pamphlet which is heartfelt and well-meaning but not especially well-written. And I had read a reference recently to Lewis' book about the death of his wife, Joy. So I dashed out and bought it. It's a lovely edition, made to look like an older book with deckled edges. And the foreword is by Madeleine L'Engle, another favorite.
It may turn out that I've bought the book for someone else. But for now I am going to read it and learn from it.