I stayed home tonight to throw away my old, scratched porcelain mugs and work on some writing.
John took Mom to the early movie at the Clyde Theater and dinner afterward. She was elated to go. I was elated to stay home.
My first order of business was to gather up said mugs and other trash (including an ancient box of cereal, a handful of Popsicle sticks, and a large assortment of plastic and glass) and deposit it in the trash can at the end of the driveway.
Feeling very virtuous, I then set about making a one-dish nutritious supper for myself: quinoa with a little bit of maple syrup stirred in. Delicious! I also puttered about the house, indulging my furniture dreams: measuring various pieces of furniture and wall space and imagining what new arrangements would look like. At one point I had three yardsticks out.
I watched two hours of news, blew my diet with chocolate ice cream, played Mahjongg Solitaire full volume on my computer, and typed up a February 15, 1915, letter from George to Dana. (That’s my grandfather to my grandmother a few years before they became Mr. and Mrs.) Somehow I managed to avoid the church history writing project I was supposed to be working on.
Thus I spent the hours from four to eight p.m. until Mom got home, quite convinced she was returning from a lengthy vacation. Both of us were happy.
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