The weather is cold and sprinkly (not rainy). I have lots to do after spending three days doing yardwork at the beach, where it was also cold and rainy. Filling up three huge green cans in three days is a lot for an old lady.
I had to run to the grocery store today, read two papers, fill out my sales and use tax form, fill out a death benefits form, have a Zoom call with my birthday boy grandson, and finish up some laundry,
I thought I would be selling dishes today. Instead, I answered a whole bunch of questions with the promise of a sale tomorrow. Another woman wanted to come during the Zoom call, but that didn’t happen.
I sat down on the floor to wrap up the tea cups and saucers I got at the beach (put them in gift bags with bows). I didn’t have the TV on while I did it, didn’t have any music playing. It was just me and the tea cups, my Zen space.
I read somewhere this past weekend that the human brain spends a great deal of time thinking about the past and some time thinking about the future and not much time thinking about the present. There is joy in doing something quietly in the moment, just enjoying the task, not worrying about what you have to do afterward, not watching the clock, not multitasking in any way. I wasn’t even drinking fake coffee or anything, although I did find some loose M&Ms at the bottom of one of the plastic bins the dishes were in. I ate them, of course.
I hadn’t had the heat on in a week when we thought Spring had arrived, but today the heat was back on to help cut through the gray gloom.
I also walked one dog this morning and played ball with the other dog, although she wandered off to catch a rat, and I wandered off to empty a wet wagon full of sticks and leaves so that I could use it to transport heavy stuff from the car to the house.
I also finished my book that I picked up for free at the thrift store last week. It was 300+ pages and had a nice twist at the end, a Nora Roberts title, which had too much sex in it for my taste, especially the way it was written so nebulously, with lots of writhing, clawing and scratching, wanton desire and fluttering in the belly. I don’t think that’s where the fluttering happens, but the book is rated PG, or would be, if there were such a thing.
American Idol is on, which is crazy, because I want to watch Tracker on CBS and The Americas on NBC, all on at the same time. Tomorrow, after I’ve paid the monthly bills, sold some dinner plates, and practiced my chorus music, I’ll watch Tracker, at least. The sun might even come out tomorrow. I expect some gray at the beach, but not here at the end of April.
FIRST DATE, WORST DATE EVER! 