A tiring good day

Guess what, folks? Unboxing and sorting books is tiring. And that’s what I did all morning. A used book dealer is coming Friday morning, and the librarian/archivist friend who arranged this warned me to take out ahead of time the books I want to keep. We don’t want her to choose one only to have me say, “Oh, no. I want to keep that one.” So I did the long bookcase in my office this morning. I was amazed at how dusty the books were and how dirty I felt when I got through. Don’t know how thorough I was but I am getting ruthless. Some of my books are, I’m quite sure, collectors’ items for people who research the history of the American West, which I probably will never do again. But there are a couple, like Foster-Harris’ The Look of the Old West, that I can’t bear to part with.

Jordan also got two boxes from the dwindling stack of cartons for me to sort—they were supposedly saved, but some are well beyond recovery. I did those, so tonight she got two more boxes down. That and my lawyer’s bookcase are on the list for tomorrow.

Today, the groomer also came for Sophie. I love it—they pull up in front in a pickup with a trailer that has everything: water connections, heat and a/c, electricity. Sophie gets so excited when she sees that truck. And tonight she looks so pretty. And the restoration company sent two men to spot clean the places I’d found on the couch. So it was busy around here—probably just what this anxious soul needed.

Tonight my Canadian daughter (her real mom lives so far away, we’ve adopted each other on a make-do basis) and her partner came for happy hour. Lovely evening on the patio, and we had a good happy visit, laughing a lot. Jordan spent the afternoon at another mom’s house working on the kids’ group science project. She has threatened Jacob with death and destruction if he ever signs up for another group project. But they’re done! She came in and poured herself a most generous glass of wine.

And suddenly, I’d lost my starch. Was so tired I didn’t even want to think about supper. I had knocked a hard-boiled egg out of the fridge and cracked it, so decided I should eat it for supper. Too lazy to even devil it—just cut it in half and put salt on it. With cherry tomatoes and a big slice of heavily buttered Parmesan toast—and a bit of dark chocolate. Got my starch sort of back this evening (maybe I was just hungry) and did some good guest work.

If you read my newsletter or follow me on Facebook, you already know it’s party time Friday night at the Wine Haus, 1628 Park Place Avenue, to celebrate The Gilded Cage. Nope, you don’t have to buy a book—just tell me you’re happy for me. You’re on your own for wine, but I’ll provide snacks. Hope to see you there.