Oh, my! Life is getting complicated

Before

After--kind of sad but it will hold books again

last night I made the bold and rash statement that I now could wrap my mind around this move. Tonight I’m wondering whatever I was thinking. I spent part of the morning watching a friend work—those are the kinds of friends to have, and I am blessed. Teddy Springfield, who is nicely tall, wrapped up emptying my office bookshelves and getting rid of the junk on the credenza (fancy word for what it actually is). Then he went for more boxes and boxed the books in another bookcase in the back room—mostly either those I’ve written or by good friends. I was delighted that Teddy found a Bob Flynn book he wanted to take home and read. And, bless him, he said he’ll come back another day.

My desk is a mess, and I must organize the things on it. Some receipts, but I dealt today with the alarm company and arranged for security in the cottage. Have to talk to Lewis tomorrow about smoke alarms—it’s those little things you don’t think about.

My neighbors came for happy hour and a self-guided tour of the cottage? What’s to need a guide for in three rooms, two of them quite small. They were enthusiastic, as everyone is. I sometimes wonder if they like the space that much or if they’re trying to reassure me that I’ll like it. I’m in a dither about window treatments—and there are seven windows and the French doors. I don’t want to block the light, so traditional blinds are not my first choice. But anything is expensive, complicated by the fact that on this old property no windows are standard size and no two are the same. So whatever I choose will have to be special ordered, and I should have done it a couple of months ago.

Tonight I spent a frustrating hour trying to wade through the Humana Pharmacy website—my prescription list shows medications I never heard of. That’s frustration enough, but half the time the website booted me and then wouldn’t accept my password.

I am going to spend the remaining sliver of the evening reading cooking magazines! That’s my own private rebellion.