12:23 PM 2/1/2024 insurance call — car totaled
hope shopping trip goes better than previous one
Swapping dresser drawers — dump puts pencils on floor, hides all stuff that was on top
3:32 PM 2/1/2024
I didn't find my comb until after I'd combed my hair, and I didn't find my notebook until I cleared off the bed for my nap.
Everything from the four drawers of the glove chest went into two drawers of the marble-topped dresser with lots of room to spare, but I just jumbled it in so I could get into bed. It's after time to get up from my nap and I haven't been down yet.
4:32 PM 2/2/2024 Searching for the instructions to the toaster oven led to cleaning out the recipe drawer, which led to the discovery of instructions for a Proctor-Silex griddle neither of us remembers ever owning.
I don't think the toaster oven came with instructions. I guessed the temperature for a baked potato just right. And the steak (pan broiled) was *very* good. It was close to a pound and we came close to eating all of it.
10:34 AM 2/3/2024 All the geese are in pairs — can goslings be far behind?
I meant to go on an all-day bike ride yesterday, but I can't keep going very long after lunch, so I cut out a couple of stops. I did pick up pills at Zale's, a couple of cookies at the Pete Thorne Center, four books at the library, and some groceries at Kroger. Seems as though no matter how little I want to buy, it takes an hour to shop at Kroger. No emergency messages while I was there.
The books included _Ulysses_ for Dave. I read a couple of passages and was deeply unimpressed, but he seems to find it interesting.
I took _Pebble in the Sky_ just to keep it from being weeded, but it's the right size to put into my go bag, and the passages I looked at don't seem familiar — I was probably a teenager when I read it the first time. Indeed, I thought it was _The Currents of Space_, and was a bit baffled when the opening paragraphs about the tailor didn't fit into that plot. I do remember how the next few pages will go: the rag doll sliced in half, and the sliver off the heel of his shoe are pretty memorable. We shall see whether what I remember is in the book!
The remaining two books are _Undercity_ and _Down These Dark Spaceways_ because I want to compare "The City of Cries" (2005) with the novel it was expanded to (2014).
I've got my clothes laid out and my go-bag in the car for our trip to Dave's appointment in Fort Wayne at eight in the morning tomorrow. I'll probably have time for a nap before my appointment to get a needle in the eye at three in the afternoon. That's the last shot.
If I have energy left over, I'll make an appointment for the mammogram that I was supposed to have in December.
While I was setting up to tell you that I finally have time to write and am too wound up to do so, Dave called to say that the dealer had made him a deal he couldn't refuse on the slightly-used Equinox I had driven around the block a while ago.
Been a busy day, and I haven't had my eye stick yet. I hope Dave remembers that I want to roll out at half-past two.
The sun rose while we were driving to Fort Wayne. An hour and a half each way for a half-hour appointment. I like Dr. Crevecoeur. He was annoyed that the surgeon who referred us to him hadn't sent photographs of the lesion to be removed; he can't schedule surgery on guesswork. But he took pictures, and will be able to make the appointment when he knows exactly which lesion is to be removed. It will be Mohs surgery. He didn't use that word, but described what it is — I was tempted to say "I've had Mohs on my nose", but refrained.
The pictures of Dave's scalp had been two or three referrals back. He had gone through this cascade of referral for a lesion on his ear, and it ended up in radiation instead, so he was a bit worried. The surgeon
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And we'll never know what I meant to say about which surgeon.
The Equinox (I tried to write "Solstice") does not have four-wheel drive. Dave reflected that we need four-wheel drive maybe three or four times a year, we have the Tacoma, and we can always stay home. And it saves a bunch of money.
The eye stick went off perfectly — though with a lot of eye-rolling to spread the antiseptic around — and it's the last one. I have an appointment near the end of the month to check on how it went
Publisher's clearing house called. We have won a certified check, but I poked "block number" at that point and don't know how big the check is.
Grossnickle called. It's time to schedule my annual eye exam. I haven't called about the mammogram yet either. [When I saw Hickman, he said that I can forget about annual exams.]
There's an Equinox in the garage. We must remember not to poke the "violently fling trunk open" button while the car is indoors. Perhaps I should duck-tape it, as I did the "break the daisy wheel" lever on the old printer. [Dave found a switch for turning the "lift gate" off.]
I spent a little time learning how to use the cameras. It's going to take some getting used to.
One of the cameras shows you what is under the hitch.
The Equinox is no bigger than the Rogue, but Dave is going to have to move the duct tape markings on the garage floor. He said they were getting ratty anyway.
The boy who sold the Equinox brought Dave back from Enterprise after he returned the Versa. He had intended to return the Versa for him, then he realized that the rental contract doesn't allow him to drive it.
We ate the last piece of the two cookies I bought last Saturday today. They were more like chunks of cake, and the frosting was half an inch thick.
I washed a spare sheet and some towels and rags today. It was a gratefully-dull day for me, but I think Dave used up all his spoons on paperwork and trying to learn how to remove an icon which, a search of the Web showed, can't be removed, but will eventually go away by itself. Seems like a counter-productive way to arrange radio buttons to me, but I need to learn only one of the radio controls: the big physical button that turns it off.
We had a pork chop simmered in gravy for supper, with stovetop-baked-in-a-skillet vegetables. There wasn't enough fat on the chop to make gravy, so I added half a slice of lean-free bacon. There was some chop and gravy left over, but not much.
When Dave found time to move the marks, he found that they fit the new car just fine.
More phone calls and so forth for Dave on Wednesday. I rode my bike to Carniceria San José, stopping at the health-food store for more candy on the way out and at Zales and Kroger on the way back.
Ever since I bought the smoked peppers I've been wanting to make bean soup. Yesterday I gave up holding out for smoked pork neck and bought a package of smoked turkey wings. But I was too tired to put beans on to soak, so I will have to make the soup tomorrow. Half the ground beef that I bought yesterday is left; I wonder whether I can get away with serving hamburgers two days in a row?
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Naptime, and I haven't done any work yet.
I did prepare a very elaborate quiche for my lunch. Not enough spinach and too much ham powder.
A little after eight we were awakened — well, alerted, we'd been awake for some time — by a call from Nationwide: the checks are in the mail. One for us and one for Nissan.
When I dragged out the dry beans — egad, we have a *lot* — I discovered that we have a pound of red lentils, so we are having soup today after all. I'm sort of following the recipe on the package: it's vegetarian, and I'm putting the turkey wings in. Also leaving out the cumin. I did brown a chopped onion, and plan to put it in five minutes before the soup is done the way the package says. And I'm leaving out my usual dose of celery and not adding frozen bell pepper.
I'm starting to clean out the box that I dumped stuff into when changing dressers — I did *not* upend it until nearly everything was out.
I found this picture:
6:55 PM 2/8/2024 — Lentils don't need to be cooked all day. Turkey wings do. I'm simmering the left-over soup.
Another weird dream. I was staying in a hotel room with two bed bays, a regular hotel door in front of one bed and a garage door in front of the other. And something about a broken glass gallon jug of milk, an ice box that was a hand truck or shopping cart but very awkward, and a town-square plaza right outside the garage door. The part I've forgotten was even weirder.
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Today's mail included a recall notice for the Rogue. We declined to run the "keep this in the vehicle" card over to the disassembly line. The return card included a check box for "destroyed".
The problem was a part that, if it failed, would prevent the car from starting. I suspect that the Rogue's current condition renders that moot.
Dave got a call from Frank at Lakeside Chevrolet. The slightly-used condition of the car is confusing the company that holds the lease, and Frank needed some information to straighten them out. We are not too worried that they might want to give us only seven thousand miles instead of ten for the first year, since there were less than ten thousand total on the Rogue, but it's better to have things straight.
Dave remembered that there was a piece of the LazyBoy in the attic. We straightened up the attic some finding it. There are a lot of boxes up there that we planned to go through in 2001.
I found two bags of pillow stuffing that I brought down intending to give them to Jeanie. One is kapok, which is probably unattainable. Kapok is good for rag dolls and other things that need a particularly-smooth surface, and you can wash it.
A kapok pillow filled in for my feather pillow while its overtick was in the laundry.
A couple of boxes felt damp, and there was fine debris on everything.
I don't know how long ago I heard this story, but it was when Jim Rundell was still farming and the computer was in his office in the basement, so he would summarize e-mails for Nancy.
The story was that the summary for the Banner was always "She's riding her bike again."
I think he would have found yesterday's ride hard to summarize.
I hope I can remember enough to make sense. I have notes on part of it, but they are terse.
The plan was to scope out Fort Wayne Orthopedic, which is across the street from Sprawlmart, then explore Sprawlmart, beginning with Runnings, which is the latest name for the big-box where R.P. Home and Harvest, Stock & Field, and Big R used to be.
When I was almost dressed, Dave started worrying about his catheter, so when ready to go, I sat down and wrote an entry in my sewing diary. Closing that gave me a time stamp for our departure for Parkview. I went in my cycling clothes, complete with notebook. Later on, I realized that I had *not* gotten sweaty from being overdressed.
Nothing unusual about the visit. He had to have a new catheter, and hang around long enough to make sure it was working. I think it was Sunday that I wrote another entry in the sewing diary to document the progress I'd made in darning a sock while in the treatment room.
It was lunchtime when we got back. I had a cup of strong tea with lunch so I could scope out Fort Wayne Orthopedic instead of taking a nap.
Some buildings have a space in the airlock where one can park a bicycle. I could see by peering through the windows (they are not open on Saturdays) that this one doesn't. So I took a lap around the building, noting fresh deer tracks in the mud beside the walk on the east side of the building. The deer must have disliked the mud and gotten back on the concrete; the tracks were very few, and very deep.
There was a proper usable bike rack behind the building, beside a "staff only" door. But it is almost exactly opposite to the entrance, and that building is two or three large buildings side-by-side. There's a gymnasium in there!
So come Monday, I tied up to a handicap-parking sign.
After leaving Fort Wayne Orthopedics, I went into Dollar Tree to see whether they had the parchment squares I bought there before. Out of stock, but there were some cookie-sheet size sheets, and I picked a box up thinking that I could cut them as needed, then realized: well, duh! I have a *roll* of that stuff.
On to Runnings. I'd just had time to notice that the clothing department was much larger than before — I couldn't see anything else from the entrance — and was examining a pair of socks that might be wool when a text message arrived: "we might have to go back to Parkview" I texted that I was on my way, but before I had finished unlocking the bike, another text said "maybe not". So I texted back that I would stop at Popeye's and he texted approval.
I bought two thighs and a biscuit. Got home way early for supper, but we ate them while they were still warm. Someday I'm going to insulate my pannier well, put two flat Ball wide-mouth half pints of boiling water in, and make a special trip to Popeyes. It takes only twenty minutes to get back.
When we'd eaten but were still at the table, the tea wore off.
Not too long after that, Dave realized that the clog was a clog, and decided not to wait until he was in severe pain.
This time I changed clothes. I absent-mindedly picked a striped shirt to wear with my flowered jeans — the ones Dave calls pajama pants, justly. Also noticed later that my hair was standing straight out all over. All appropriate for the occasion, I suppose.
This time the clog cleared itself, but they made him drink two bottles of water and hang around for an hour to be sure.
It was quite dark when we drove home. I mentioned that both sides of the fork in the road to Parkview lead to the emergency room — sensible design, I think; if you make a wrong turn you still get to the right place. Dave said that if he could see, he'd go out the other way just to look. I glumly believe that we'll get a chance by daylight — it's a long time until March the fourth.
I don't remember what we did with the remainder of the day. I slept like a rock, and did my midnight exercises in the fellowship hall after church.
Finger has been shot. I was out of there before I was supposed to arrive — even though I spent an eon or two standing in line at check-in.
Well, sitting in line. Until the person before me was taken, then I was "who's next" almost before I'd sorted out the cards that I was supposed to have ready. (Didn't read the "wait here" sign until I stood up.)
It's more sore than before the shot, but not as sore as it has been. Leffers said that I should expect it to swell, and was slightly concerned that my wedding ring (on the adjacent finger) won't come off.
He also said the lump on my palm was a hereditary disease, and asked whether Dad had it. I didn't catch the name, and didn't ask for a repeat, being pre-occupied with the finger. It's been sitting unnoticed for eighty years, and might well sit for eighty more. I suppose I should find out what it is and tell Dad's other descendants. And Uncle Ralph's too.
Then I took a quick tour of Runnings — not a bunch different from the stores that went before — ducked into Rural King just long enough to see that they don't sell cold food, and bought a gallon of milk at Dollar General. And they had a manned check out! (My super power is making self-serve checkouts crash.) It's a dollar more than Kroger milk. Cheaper than a special trip.
On Saturday, I forgot my gloves and didn't miss them. Today I wore my thick heavy jersey and wished I'd worn more under it.
Not much going on the rest of the day. Dave got blood drawn, and later on got a call from Parkview to say they'd send a prescription to Zales, which reminded me that I have only two weeks of Lisinopril and Levothyroxin, so I went to the Hometown web site and ordered refills. We have decided on pizza for supper. I should set out re-usable plates, since I have a splinter in my finger and washing dishes is good for that.
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My prescriptions were ready when Dave went out just before supper to pick up his antibiotics.
3:49 PM 2/13/2024
We're going out to dinner tonight! I just washed dishes wearing my best jeans and prettiest T-shirt — and thickest apron.
I needed that dishwash. A few days ago I lost my balance, slapped the wood panelling in the garage, and got a splinter in my finger — my trigger finger, but I didn't mention the splinter to Dr. Leffers. He didn't give any instructions for the care of the needle stick, but I figured that a good soak in hot soapy water with bleach would help that as well. It isn't as sore as it was this morning, but I think that that was done by tincture of time.
And, on the other hand, this morning I picked up a scrap I saw on the living-room floor and gave it a good snap in case there was dust on it, without giving due consideration to the location of the card table. I hit the end of my index finger so hard that the edge of the nail left a red mark, which is smaller now. Getting a bruise hot enough to increase the blood flow usually washes out some of it, and I think that bleach draws out soreness. I know that it draws out infection.
While wiping the gaskets on the freezer and fridges, I absent-mindedly wrung the dishrag without considering my finger, and it hurt but didn't click. I think it's going to be 100% long before the six-week follow-up.
Just discovered that it's too early to try to make a fist. But I didn't set it back much.
We saw two herons on the sand bar. Herons don't tolerate other herons in their territory; I suspect that we have a pair.
The bad news: I need to wash dishes again, and with eating out, washing knives and the like right away, and eating off paper, we haven't any dirty dishes.
The good news: with the aid of a doll needle, I finally got that almost-microscopic crumb of a splinter out. If there isn't a doll needle in your house, rush out and buy one; it's a very handy tool. (It's a darning needle so long and so stiff that you can get a good grip on it.)
There is little evidence of the bruise on my right index finger, and the trigger finger — the official term for "trigger" is "click", and mine isn't a full-bore snap-into-an-impossible-position trigger, so guess I should say "clicking finger" — the click finger is sore to the touch only at the site of the injection (and the splinter), and doesn't hurt any more than the other hand when I flex my fingers. Probably still a bad idea to try to make a fist.
Today's menu has been all left-overs. Jambalya cakes for breakfast, toasted pizza for lunch, and I'll toast two fish fingers for supper.
I toast such things half an hour at 160F. But the cracker-thin pizza was ready in ten minutes or so.
The "fingers" are actually filets. There is enough meat for a meal in one, if you also eat some vegetables, and an "appetizer" was six! But we brought home only two.
At that point, the doorbell interrupted the writing. Two Grace college students are now cleaning our gutters for thirty dollars.
It's almost time to put the fish fingers into the toaster oven. I have finally cleared off the ironing board, so after supper I can iron three shirts and press a bunch of sewing.
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I washed my clothes in the morning, and Dave went to Martin's and stocked up on frozen dinners.
What a struggle! I'm pretty sure my deck has changed since the last time I scanned it, so I set out to make a fresh scan. First time around, the scanner presented the seven cards in seven separate files. I laid a sheet of white paper over it and got a good copy, but what's that extra card? Oops, the white paper was printed on the under side. Turned the paper over, got a good scan, moved it to the folder "sort later". (On one of the occasions that my desktop icons got scrambled, I shoved all of them into a folder and pulled out the most-useful icons one at a time.)
Then I turned the cards over to scan the backs. This time I got two files, and not all the cards were in them. I arranged the cards more neatly, same result.
So I opened the "study center" looking for pink paper and found a pad of lined paper on top of the stack . That did the trick.
Now I've got to put the cards and papers and the stuff I store under the scanner lid back.
I got up to answer a spam call, looked out the window: Hey! Where did all that snow come from?
There were two herons on the sand bar this morning, but after I looked up "Great Blue Heron" in Wikipedia and went for the binoculars to see whether their beaks are orange, they were gone.
I made a new back-up thumb drive this morning.
Yesterday, Dave took the living-room drapes down and leaf-blew them, and cleaned up the drapery rods. They work much better now.
Today he took the drapes in the sewing room down, and found out what has been keeping them from closing properly for the last forty years or so. Repairing it required four more drapery rings, which were in the ammo box where I keep drapery hardware.
I washed a sheet and changed the bed.
I'd planned an all-day bike ride. I was prepared for the cold and the wind, but Boy's City Drive was white, which strongly implied that the streets were not safe. It had thawed by ten, but by then I was out of the mood.
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1:17 AM 2/18/2024 scored nine at Hexavirus
And in the evening, I closed the sewing-room drapes without using a clothespin.
There was a society meeting and a carry-in dinner after church. I forgot to buy potatoes and make potato salad, which is just as well as there were several potato salads. I thought I'd put some frozen fruit into a pint-and-a-half jar, dump it into one of the church serving bowls, empty a can of fruit cocktail over it, and call it salad.
That would have gone over well, but I got clever and tied it in a grocery bag to the waistband of my skirt — and didn't think of double-bagging it. About halfway along Chestnut Street, the glass jar tore a hole in the bag and smashed on the street — right in the tire track. A kind passerby took the splinters of glass and I threw the fruit onto nearby grass, then used a paper towel to sweep crumbs of glass into the gutter.
I cut lots and lots of pies into small pieces of assorted sizes — again not thinking. With so many pies, less than half of each was taken; I should have saved trouble by cutting full-size slices on half of each pie.
Ah, well, at eighty-two, it isn't often that one can say "I'll do better next time." I'm sure to be called on to cut pies again.
Yesterday, we went to Goshen to talk to Kristen Abb. Today, I rode my bike to Meijer and Dave drove to Runnings.
That called the China Palace to Dave's attention, and we went there for supper. They've added more desserts and a platter of sushi on a separate table, and more bowls of sauce. I over-ate, but not as much as I wanted to.
Dave's fortune cookie said "You have many choices but can take only one.", which we thought odd at a buffet. Mine was equally weird, but I've forgotten what it was.
Facebook has a standardized genre of click bait. It's a photograph of a document — always the same size and shape — that cuts off just when you've built up enough momentum to want to read the rest of the sentence. It's really hard for me to refrain from reading something that's before my eyes — it's like failing to *see* something in the center of your field of vision. Today, I clicked.
The link didn't take me to a completely-irrelevant site, but the story was custom-written to be page-down bait. Each paragraph contained as many words and as little information as possible, and there were vast swaths of blank screen between the paragraphs. Most of the words were about how important the father was, which had nothing to do with the story of the teacher who whacked off a student's hair. The page did eventually release a few hints as to why, but it only mentioned that the teacher was sent to "hair diversity training" (that's a thing?) and didn't say that anybody hinted to her that attacking and mutilating a child consigned to one's care is not one of a teacher's duties.
Yesterday I got up and said "I've got the whole day to clean." I've no idea what I did all day, but when I went to bed, nothing was one speck neater. I did push the trash bin out to the curb.
Dave spent yesterday cleaning the La-Z-Boy, and today he finished the job and swapped it for the lift chair, since it's more comfortable.
Today I finally got to Aldi, and made two trips from the car into the store — the first time buying heavy things such as a carton of Coke. I failed to notice that they had V-8 Energy Drink until the second pass.
That took up my whole day. For supper, I baked two of the russet potatoes I'd bought, but we ate only one of them.
I ate some of the left-over potato for breakfast and some for lunch. About half of it is left.
Neatening happened today. I gathered up all the envelopes on the sewing-room floor, compared the return addresses to my address book, dated each entry and drew a green line across the envelope, then put the pile into the recycling bin.
I keep a green pencil under the monitor for marking papers that I have transcribed. Green because that was the first colored pencil I found when I started the practice. The current pencil is yellow-green, and I hope I sweep the previous one out from under something soon.
Duh. There was a green pencil in the little drawer of the secretary. I swapped.
Later, we were discussing the mess in the attic and I started a job that we planned to start in June of 2001: bringing down a box a week to sort and put away.
I started at the north end, with a bundle of Old-Time Crochet magazines that had, by good luck, been bundled with shrink wrap.
The box underneath it was damp and had obviously been damper, and the typing table north of it was rusty — it had the imprint of a steam iron that had been standing on it, which kept the metal wet longer and made more rust.
So I brought the damp box down too. It wasn't easy, because it was too heavy to lift. Eventually I thought of taking the books out of it one at a time and handing them down to Dave. The box was marked "children's books", but it was all yearbooks for the American People's Encyclopedia.
The pages hadn't been wet, and the books are still readable, but most of the covers are warped and moldy. I wiped a lot of the mold off with a paper towel, and think the rest could be removed and the books flattened under a weight. Whatever, we will give them a week to dry out before doing anything with them.
Later, Dave asked me to bring the table down. My first impulse was to put it out by the road marked "free" — after making sure none of the kids want it — but Dave cleaned it up and it fits nicely between his computer desk and the east wall. Every now and again, we want a little table and rolling that out will be easier than unfolding one of the plastic ones. He's giving serious thought to painting it.
After my nap, I brought the iron down, and mean to scrub the rust off the aluminum soleplate. It has a tag saying "sad iron for blackouts". The holes in the soleplate make it a very poor sad iron, but it's *way* ahead of trying to make a crease with fingers. I was working on woven polyester during the great storm of '87, and my sewing came to a dead stop.
There are four rush-bottom dining chairs up there. They are in need of re-rushing, and I suspect that they, too, have water damage. I should set them out by the road with a sign that says "free".
We got a real phone call during supper: A reminder that I'm supposed to see Dr. Hickman at three on Tuesday afternoon. The phone said it was from Dr. Knight, Dave's eye doctor. We should change "Knight" to "Grossnickle".
Supper was a tenderloin that I bought at Aldi. I should buy another one soon — and pre-zap the potatoes and parsnip that I put in with it. I got confused and put it into the oven nearly half an hour early, then it cooked in half the predicted time, so we ate very early. But it was done just right.
Lovely day to extend my mileage, but I settled for a lap around the Sprawlmart block, which is about half of my previous trip to Meijer. I've a dearth of places that are farther, but not too much farther. I've been west, north, and east, and the nearest place to the south is Claypool.
I'm plotting Walmart for my next expedition. I hope I don't have to wear five shirts!
We had leftovers buffet for supper. I overate. I also ate all of the six-inch sub that I bought for lunch.
Same menu as yesterday. I mostly ate macaroni shells in cheese sauce with fried-crunchy Spam bits and buttered-onion sauce.
I made fresh buttered onion, but it turned out less than what was left over from the previous batch. Knowing that it cooks down a lot, I was reaching for the largest onion when I noticed that a smaller onion appeared to be in need of being used up soon. It indeed was, and I threw away a substantial part of it.
Another dimedrop.
When I had the horizontal monitor of XP and the Linux Monitor side-by-side on the south-facing monitor stand and the vertical monitor on the west-facing monitor stand, when I switched monitors, I would move the Linux keyboard to the shelf under the monitor stand, put the XP keyboard where the Linux keyboard had been, and move the XP mouse from the stool to the right of the keyboard stand to where the XP keyboard had been,
The first dimedrop was realizing that putting both XP monitors on the same stand would eliminate all this falderal. (Moving them wasn't easy, but I think I discussed it at the time.) But now it was no longer satisfactory to lean forward to use the mouse on top of the XP tower. I use it very little with the horizontal monitor, but quite a lot with the vertical one.
Fumbling around ended with the XP mousepad awkwardly sharing the Linux keyboard stand.
The Linux mouse cord was just barely long enough to reach the stool I was using for a mousepad stand, and if I left it there, it would crash to the floor at frequent intervals, so I started putting it on Linux's monitor stand when not in use, and ended up putting a half-size mouse pad on the monitor stand. Half a pad is quite adequate for what I do with Linux.
This left the mousepad stand wandering about the sewing room, sometimes serving as a table when I was at the sewing machine.
Yesterday or the day before, the mouse on the keyboard stand was being particularly awkward when I realized that there was room for a mousepad stand between the two keyboard stands.
Duh!
No more trying to move Linux's pointer with XP's mouse.
I meant to wash clothes, but decided to wash the hot whites first so there would be time to dry them on the line before sunset. By the time the washer was free, I was out of ambition. Changing the sheets on our un-makeable mattress used up a lot of it.
I have plenty of underwear; I scheduled laundry only because it was a good day for it.
Boston Market chicken pie for supper. Good, but I should have baked it five minutes longer.
Afternoon appointments are a mistake. I can't focus on anything.
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I slightly-dampened a rag with isopropyl alcohol and rubbed the covers of the yearbooks. We've gotten into diminishing returns on that chore. Ethanol might brisk it up a bit, if I can find some.
Looks like a beautiful day for riding a bike, but I've committed to going by car.
Awk scrickle! I almost forgot to put sun glasses into my bag.
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Yesterday I dropped one of my irreplaceable pettit pans and broke it. My only consolation is that it was the harvest design, which I don't like as much as I like the cornflowers.
I'm glad I'm not going anywhere in any vehicle today. The wind was roaring when we got up, but when I peeked out the branches were hardly moving. Now there are whitecaps on the lake and I have to get right up to the window to hear the wind.
I didn't need the sunglasses, as it was overcast when I went back to the car.
6:12 PM 2/27/2024 Good news bad news
The good news: the injections cleared up the fluid in my eye.
The bad news: I have to keep on doing it to keep the problem from coming back.
But at least each set will be farther apart than the set before. It might get down to annual.
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I spent most of the morning printing out a fresh copy of my calendar to carry in my go bag. I'll hold off on printing a fresh calendar for the bike until I schedule a bike ride. Weather Underground says that tomorrow and Saturday will be good. I have nowhere to go tomorrow, but on Saturday I can take the ride that was snowed out the Saturday before last. (The Farmers and Artisans Market is every other Saturday.)
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Validating this Banner found only one error, and I'd already corrected the local copy. I hope I don't introduce more before sending!
Spell checking found *lots* of mistakes.
Attic cleaning proceeds. We brought down the four rush-bottom dining chairs that were in the house when we moved in. They were in need of re-rushing when we put them up, the varnish was worn off in spots, and now they are moldy. I think the mold will wash off, and the frames seem to be sound.
7:33 PM 2/29/2024 -- Dave cleaned the mold off one of the chairs. Much of the varnish came with it.
Let me know if you want to look at them before I put them out by the road with a sign that says "free".
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I stacked up the yearbooks near the People's Encyclopedia, with rags between them, and put three dead batteries on top.
Also ran a load of wash. I put the shirts and tights and some of the socks on hangers, and meant to hang the rest on the line. My fingertips started stinging, and I thought I should go in and thaw before hanging up the fifteen pairs of underpants, but when I was hanging up the pillowcase, I noticed that the scarf I'd just hung up was frozen stiff, and decided that the briefs would dry on a rack indoors just fine.
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And now to append the promised yip-yapping about the dresser move:
When we moved, we brought a marble-topped dresser that Mom bought at an auction sale or something of the sort. I don't recall how it came to be mine. We also brought a small Ethan Allen chest of drawers that we'd kept in the back entry of the New Salem house to put gloves and scarves in, and to feed Erica on so the younger cats wouldn't steal her food instead of eating their own. The doily I crocheted to keep her dish from scratching the chest is still in my lace box.
We put Dave's clothes in the top two drawers of the dresser and out-of-season stuff in the bottom drawer, and the Ethan Allen chest was my dresser.
One day I was struggling to fit my socks into the glove chest and the dime dropped: "I've been fighting this tiny chest for twenty years! I need a bigger dresser!"
So I started looking at dressers whenever I was in a furniture shop, but months passed and nothing took my fancy. Then one day Dave expressed dissatisfaction with the marble-top dresser and I said "We'll get you a new dresser, and I'll take that one!" Well, Dave isn't a shopper, so he never looked at dressers and eventually told me that what he wanted was the glove chest.
A few more weeks passed before we realized that we didn't have to move the furniture, only the contents.
I still try to get my comb out of Dave's top drawer now and again, and he tends to look at my briefs when he wants a pair of shorts.
Among the complications of turning my top drawer upside-down on the bed was that it had contained an open-top box containing the majority of a gross of golf pencils.
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