Nobody is Promised Tomorrow. . .
How hard can it be to toss some clothes in a carry-on, some electronics in a backpack and get on with the adventure? Going to have a beer and a burger and I’ll address this later. With The Dead as packing music.
There is room left for the electronics accouterments, cords, connectors, chargers, etc. Plus space for a jacket or some such thing.
Tomorrow I’ll decide about taking the computer. There is room for it. But, she who travels lightest travels bestest.
It is a little disconcerting that the grocery store next door has seen fit to keep the laundry detergent under lock and key. But, almost everything is disconcerting to a dinosaur like me.
This is the largest “crack” on my floor that I can see. Goodness knows what happening under the rug. Fortunately, this one is out of the way of traffic. At this time of year the cracks sort of fill in. This is what happens when your floor is installed by the low bidder. Your rental floor.
I didn’t mean to fuss about this. But, I was in and out of that part of the room a lot today.
No, I don’t use packing cubes. I use ziplock bags. They are cheap, water resistant, and can be used for things other than holding clothes. I used to have compression bags. But, Hello, my name is Peg and I am old, and weight matters as much as volume. I am more than willing to play the old lady card and get help with my bag. And, I still want to be able to wrangle my carry-on myself.
It always starts like this. Haul out all the possible clothes. Put them on the bed. Put them back in the closet. And try again later. The denim skirt is a no-go. If it gets wet it stays wet. Is the dress required? What about the black sweater? It’s going to be warm to hot weatherwise. Yoga pants? Am I going to go to any actual yoga classes? I’ll do better tomorrow. Clothes will be decided on by 1700 hours Monday.
And what about taking the computer? It’s the wouldn’t it be great to get all the photos culled and cataloged fantasy. If I think I could finish the job in 14 days on a boat, then couldn’t I finish it by the end of May if I devoted 2 weeks from May 15 to May 30th to the job? I’ll decide this by 1700 hours on Tuesday.
But now it’s time to head off to an 80th birthday party. Cake. Ice Cream. Coffee. Wine. Funny Cards. Good Friends. Good Times.
Fun event today was going to a couple of local libraries and buying used kid’s books to stock The Asylum’s Little Library with kid books. It was a great way to spend a few bucks.
Important event today was wrapping up the 2023 taxes. Printing out a “Final” copy, filing it away, and putting everything “important” tax-related into Dropbox. And stuffing all the paperwork into the shed box.
And then there was happy hour.
An all-together good day. Tomorrow is looking good too. Birthday Party which means CAKE. And another dear friend has made it another year. Nobody is promised tomorrow. But, please let there be cake.
OK. I went to the dentist today. The hygenist is all smiley, everything looks great, she says. No worries. Well, she decided there were worries after all. Calls in one of the dentists. Seems like one of my teeth has something seriously wrong with it. But, it had a root canal decades ago. The tooth looks fine to me. And, it doesn’t hurt. Apparently, the tooth will disintegrate “some time” soon. But, it still won’t hurt.
SO. What do I want to do, the dentist asks. Nothing. I want to go see the Panama Canal next week. Next month is time enough to worry about this old tooth. And, my current medical plan is totally quality of life. If I decide that having this tooth surgically removed will improve the quality of my life – then I’ll do it. But, I might just take my chances. The quality of my life would not be improved if a tooth disintegrates when I am anywhere other than at The Asylum. Also, soon for a dentist in his late 20s and Peg in her early 80s might not be the same.
So, OK.
The weather promised rain. But not delivered. According to my watch, I am short a few aerobic points today. Better so race around outside a bit before dinner.
Lazy Blog entry today. I covered Carlton’s Birthdays way back in 2018, with more than a few images. I enjoyed looking at them again today.
Carlton’s Birthday and Carlton’s Birthday – redux
If I make another year, maybe I’ll find additional images for his 90th.
I have to tell you about getting old. Your body starts to fail. That bad. But what’s worse – your brain also starts to fail. And that is horrible. I can see it happening to my brain. (I remember, Carlton complained about it – but I wasn’t sufficiently sympathetic. I was more concerned about his body which I could see failing. Sorry Mr C. My bad on that one.)
Hello, my name is Peg and I am old. Today, doing the laundry challenged my brain to its limits. And, cutting my toes nails – well I decided that that would count for my daily set of yoga exercises.
A second rose on a different bush in a different location indicates that Summer has replaced Spring. Too soon.
I don’t remember when the starter husband and I purchased this rug. He was history 50+ years ago. So, the rug must be at least 55 years old. I remember we paid what we considered a lot for it. But, we told ourselves that it would become “more valuable with time”.
Well, that was before moths attacked the rug one summer when Carlton and I were away. That was before my Asylum housekeeper repeatedly got the fringe tangled up in the vacuum. That was before home decorating fashion changed. Now I might have to pay someone to take it to the dump.
But the rug has become “more valuable with time”. Carlton loved that rug at least as much as I did. Every time we moved, he made sure the rug was happy. He rotated it to minimize sun damage. And when moths attacked it, he had it repaired.
My old feral Hawaiian rescue cat played on the rug until his last day. Some casual overnight guest’s dog crapped all across the rug to express his displeasure with me. That was the last time that particular man or his dog spent the night. To this day, I am grateful to the rug for warding off that man. If a man’s dog craps on your rug, what do you think the man will do to you??? (No the man did not apologize and offer to have the rug cleaned. He said “Bob is upset. He feels threatened by you.” No shit.)
Hello, my name is Peg and I am old. And, when I am dead the rug can indeed go to the dump. Because it will have been well worth every penny I spent on it so many years ago. There is a lesson here. But, I don’t know what it is.
It’s a lot like summer today. But, that’s this part of the planet. It goes from winter to summer in a flash. Spring too short and winter is too long.
While talking on the phone this morning, I realized I should learn something about the Panama Canal. So, I got a book. Well, a Kindle book. The Path Between the Seas: The Creation of the Panama Canal, 1870-1914 by David McCullough.
After looking at the book, I remember why Carlton was interested in the Panama Canal. Theodore Roosevelt was a player. And Carlton loved anything TR related. Also, Carlton’s father-in-law died working in the Canal Zone. Of yellow fever or typhoid. I didn’t spend much time worrying about his first wife’s father who died in the 1930s.
So, now I am good to go. And at this instant, I think I might just take my computer. 14 days is a lot of time. The Canal only takes up one of the days.
Hello, my name is Peg and I am old. And I am grateful that I can still walk to Trader Joe’s. My plan was to walk and get an Uber home. Well, I forgot about the plan and was halfway home before I remembered that I was going to Uber home. But, it’s not that far. I am grateful that I can still walk home from Trader Joe’s.
So, what will I do with the computer if I do take it? Most likely just lug it around. But hopefully get all the photos squared away. And this is a “For no apparent reason” activity”. No one except me cares if my photos are properly cataloged. No one at all.
Well, that was unpleasant. Covid Jab #7, some noticeable side effects. In addition to the sore arm. For a couple of hours last night, I had chills and muscle aches good enough to be a real case of Covid. I finally dragged myself out of bed and got an extra blanket and 4 ibuprofins. That helped. As did the passage of time. I have had several naps today and am surely not at 100%.
However, I may never be 100% again. Hello, my name is Peg and I am old. But, being old isn’t all bad. I don’t have to waste money on anything “anti-aging”. That ship has sailed. And, I don’t have to waste time reading articles about how to “prevent/slow” the aging process. That ship has also sailed. From my perspective: the best way to prevent aging is to die.
Tomorrow I should spring into action getting ready for my Panama Canal Trip. Frankly, it looks a little boring. But, I remember the Northwest Passage trip, I was frequently so tired that I would hope that the weather or something would cancel one of the daily activities. So I wouldn’t feel like a wimp for saying “I am not going. I need a nap”.
Today’s “adventure” was going to get a COVID shot. I believe this is #7. Plus at least one and maybe two cases of COVID.
I don’t actually believe that this shot will do anything for me. But, it didn’t cost me anything. And, when I do get COVID again, I will at least be able to say “Well, I have had 7 shots. I did all I could do.” I feel this way about flu shots too. I get them just to avoid getting extra grief if and when I get flu. It’s my system and it works for me.
I combined my COVID shot with a nice long walk on a fine spring day. Stopped off at a couple of thrift shops along the way. About 5 miles. Not too shabby for…Hello, my name is Peg and I am old.
I am reading an excellent piece of God-I-hope-its-fiction. Annie Jacobsen — Nuclear War: A Scenario. Remember that TV movie from the early-1980s, The Day After? The book is equally compelling. Early in my career, I worked around the edges of the Single Integrated Operational Plan (for total global destruction). Ms Jacobsen’s book rings true enough to me. Nikita Khrushchev said that in the aftermath of nuclear war, the living would envy the dead.
I love these fluffy pink flowers. Decades ago I dated a man with a couple of Kwanzan cherry trees in his yard. And that’s about all I remember about the guy. His name was Charles. My friends called him Charles the Second. Because Charles the First was my starter husband. Charles the Second wasn’t a keeper.
“Normal” cherry trees bloom a few weeks earlier than Kwanzan Cherries. So the weather is usually much nicer when the Kwanzans appear.
Hello, my name is Peg and I am old. But, it’s Friday and I am off to Happy Hour.
Excellent dinner with my hospital “boss”. She is a dear friend. AND, no longer “boss”. That’s a good thing because I have apparently produced the last CMS-required batch of Covid data. And this is a good thing. Because, Hello, my name is Peg and I am old. And I don’t want to be in the ED waiting to die and have someone run in and ask me where is the May data?
Peg is also a recidivist. I slipped back into online shopping, doom scrolling, social media, YouTube, and games. Must do better.
I have zero interest in any of the ports. I am spending 14 days at sea for one day of the Panama Canal. I’ll have no trouble amusing myself, doing nothing much.
I would love to think that I could use the time to get completely caught up on photo culling, processing, and editing. But, I don’t want to take my computer. I can travel happily with a phone, iPad, and Kindle. No need to add another 3 pounds to my bag. And, no need to risk my computer and all of its data. (My data are all backed up. But, I hate to think that someone would gain access to it.)
Note to self: These are first-world problems. Enjoy them.
Now. There is an hour until dinner. Why don’t you cull and catalog some photos?