Just thought I'd give a blow by blow of a day in my so-called simple life. First things first - I just looked at this title - the one I chose for my blog and realized I meant it to be 'Living the Complicated Simple Life' which was my subtitle for Crazy Jane. How did that happen? Oh well, and too late to change it.
Let's look at yesterday.
Got up at about 6:30. I slept downstairs which I do when the Sweet Patootie has his snore on. Had breakfast after half an hour (thyroid pill demands this wait). Should I have SP's wonderful bread or am I really back on the no wheat, no sugar diet? Which should be life long with VERY few exceptions. So, no - had rice cakes with fresh eggs scrambled up with basil. And coffee. Out of filters so used bodum. This means that I can only get a cup and a half as bodum is small. But good. SP left at 7 for major work day - concrete pour at very large house he is working on. Going to be a long day. It is the step-sons birthday and we're picking the kids up at their ma's and taking them for dinner. So should I come home and meet them somewhere? OH SP is having a long day so I'll have time to come back out to the country and so on. OK.
I check my emails and tool around on the blogsites a bit. I start another synopsis on my novel as that is what I'm doing these days. I pack up all my novel notes and the condensed printout of it because I have a break in my day and I can work on it. A few phone calls and a short stroll with the dog. It is pouring but he needs his walk before I go. I pick lupins for work.
I leave at ten for an eleven appointment. Park in lot - take books and videos to library. Tell four people that the library is closed as I see them banging on the door. I wonder why they want into the library if they can't read. Put unkind thoughts aside. Go to bank, deposit some of rent money from tenants. I'm carrying the lupins all this time and feel like breaking into a Monty Python skit. Anyone? "Your lupins or your life?" but then I remember that I'm the one carrying the lupins so someone else will have to do that.
Walk to work stopping to get a cappuchino on the way at Annie's Place. Chat to Annie who seems, hmmm....harried. Get to work and put lupins in glass container. They look 'right some nice'. Have apt. (can't say anything about this of course!) and then I don't have another until three so I go out pretending that I'm going to get a bite to bring back to do my revision with but no. I feel kind of lonely today so instead I go to the mallish place. And I have to find an outfit for my niece's wedding. I go to various stores and then I wander into P'Lovers, an environmental store. They always have unusual and neat clothes - re-made or made from special stuff. It is owned by a pal of mine - same one that owns Woozles, the bookstore below my office and my office in fact. I find a little jackety shirt kimona thing made up of old silk kimonas - it is pale green patterned on one side and flowery pink on the other. It means I'll have to find a pencil skirt in a very light fabric or a long flowy pale green skirt or silk 'coolie' pants. Eve (who works there) and I have a longish chat about where the word coolie comes from and is it a derogatory term or descriptive. We cannot figure it. She knows of the person who coined the word but we don't get quite there. I go off to look for skirts or pants or something but nothing. I'm told that it is 'all dresses' this year. I do try one dress on with the top as a jacket but it doesn't work - it is too fine to go over anything.
I go to Annie's again and pickup a sandwich after taking a boo at the long lineup at Pete's. I guess I AM eating wheat. And since (my brain says) I am eating wheat I might as well get a juice (sugar) and an oatcake (sugar). Stupid but true.
Then I trundle back to my office and work on my synopsis. The weird thing is that there is a client next door to my office at the massage therapist and she is a REALLY loud chatterer. I don't get why people talk when they are getting massages. I don't and everyone should be exactly like me. don't you think so? Anyway the chatter is driving me bats but I persevere. I get a good handle on it and also manage to read the new Reader's Digest which we get in the office. There is a great article on Canadian Aboriginal problems and as that is a big chunk of the book I am currently working on - I dive right in.
I see my three o'clock then go off to get my car and head to the mall on the way out of town to deposit a check for my laid up with a broken knee pal. Seems easy doesn't it? I'm told by the nice woman that in fact she isn't supposed to take cheques from a third party for deposit. Why? I wonder still feeling OK. Because it could bounce and the person whose account it is could deny knowledge of it etc... I still don't see why this is a problem and I explain that my friend CAN'T MOVE. I'm questioned on this extensively and I'm starting to feel the least bit irritated. 'why can't she move'? I told you, she broke her knee in several places and has a cast from the very top of her thigh to her ankle. Then I hear quite a bit more on how she should have given me cash to deposit. I explain she wouldn't need to do that if you think about it for a minute. That she needs the money from THIS cheque in her account. That she is alone and dependent on her friends to help her and being out of money would be pretty terrible for her. I asked her 'really what are people supposed to do?' She says they are supposed to make arrangements ahead of time. I am losing it but I don't yell - I just patiently explain that weird though it might seem, my friend didn't know she was going to have an accident that in fact that pretty much defines an accident if you think about it. AND PEOPLE somehow at this juncture we both realize that this could turn ugly and we BOTH avoid it. I'm not sure how but we both get pleasant with each other, she takes the cheque and we chat about this and that. She asks me why I don't have an account with her bank and I do not say because you're all idiots - I say that I'm happy with my bank, or happy enough and I ask her, as a therapist, why she even works for a bank and she tells me the story of her whole life. There!