No biggie

 

Ever have one of those days when little things go amuck—no biggie, but you are left with the lingering feeling that the world is just slightly out of whack. That was my world yesterday. I started the day by filling the teakettle—for some unknown reason I poured all that water into the cup that was waiting for a tea bag. Of course, it promptly overflowed all over the counter while I watched in absolute amazement.

The day didn’t get much better. The PT guy said he would be late because he had to get his brakes worked on. He usually comes at nine, which I find a bit early, so at first I was grateful. But I found it hard to dig in and work on much of anything, not knowing if he’d show up and interrupt any minute. Finally, close to noon I texted that it would work best for me if we cancelled. So we did—and he came and took a chunk out of my morning today. I know, I know—I should be, and am, grateful because I’m getting stronger, able to walk farther without resting, but I itched to be at my computer and not doing endless repetitions of shoulder shrugs and kicks and so on.

And yesterday the case whatever (manager?) was the same—I was waiting to hear from her, but she finally called about noon and said it would be today. So this morning she came and took my blood pressure and measured my oxygen—which the PT had just done an hour earlier. Redundancy.

I closed out yesterday by dropping a couple of mushrooms slices, dripping with the butter they were sauteed in, on the clean shirt I was wearing—and I’d just had compliments on what a cute outfit I had on.

I thought I was through with the day, but no. About two o’clock this morning—does that still count as yesterday? —I woke with the realization that the cottage was really hot and stuffy. I stumbled around, trying to turn either or both of my heating/cooling units to a/c but was unsuccessful. Finally gave up and fell into a fitful sleep. This morning I called the a/c repairman who gave me straightforward directions over the phone and, of course, that worked perfectly. I should never try to do anything mechanical at two in the morning—and only rarely any other time of day! Now I have the French doors open and just enough breeze blowing in that the cottage is comfortable. Who needs a/c?

A good thing about yesterday: late last night I finished a mystery that I was thoroughy enjoying—Three May Keep a Secret, by Susan Van Kirk. The title comes from good old Ben Franklin: Three may keep a secret if two of them are dead. The novel, first in a series of three, is everything a good cozy mystery should be—small-town setting, retired schoolteacher as protagonist, enough history to make it interesting. Fire, as in raging, fatal infernos, fuels this mystery, and Van Kirk writes about it with some authority. Apparently, she knows fires almost as well as she knows small towns. Now I’m moving on to Finding Freedom, a memoir by the owner of the iconic Lost Kitchen in Freedom, Maine. The restaurant is staffed entirely by women, takes reservations only on postcards, and specializes in using local products. Dinner is $200 per person and from all reports worth every penny, and the waiting list is long. It’s on my bucket list.

I’m looking forward to tomorrow—a day with no obligations. I can sleep until Sophie and I want to get up, I can work undisturbed, we have a simple dinner plan—bangers and mash (the Scot in me is coming out even if they are Irish bangers), and my Canadian daughter is coming for happy hour. Yes, I will do my shoulder shrugs, kicks, and walking—accompanied by Sophie who goes frantic over my exercise for some reason. Wish I could read that little brain.

 

 

All those things I don’t do well

I can figure my way around a paragraph or a page of prose and I’m pretty much okay in the kitchen, but outside those areas I’m at a loss. Several years ago when I was director of TCU Press, the editor was a man who could fix—or jerry-rig—most things. I have forgotten what the occasion was, but I will always remember him saying to someone, “She’s not exactly handy.” The result is that when I do the slightest mechanical thing, I tend to be inordinately proud of myself.

In the last couple of days, I have “fixed” three things, and I am bursting with pride. Never mind that one of them just involved deliberately leaving the thing alone. The commode in my cottage wouldn’t flush. Since I do not have two bathrooms in my small quarters, that’s a real problem. It not only wouldn’t flush, it wasn’t making plumbing noises like it was working on something. So I left it alone. Two hours later, it flushed perfectly! Deliberately ignoring a problem is part of my tool kit.

The light in the panel in my refrigerator door that goes on when you get water or ice? It suddenly was on and stayed on. Now in my small quarters, nothing is far apart, and that light bothered me at night when I slept. I finally got so I pulled the pocket door between bedroom and kitchen partly closed. I meant to ask Christian about it—until I discovered a light bulb image on the control panel.  Pushed it, and voila! The light went out. See how handy I am.

The third thing—and these things always come in threes—that broke was my Apple watch. I put it on the charger and saw that instead of the usual panel of numbers, I saw just the corner of one big number. After it charged, it was the same. My phone does that sometimes and I simply reboot it. Not an option with the watch. There’s only one button you can push on the phone, and I pushed it. Nothing. So I called the genius granddaughter who works at an Apple Genius Bar in Boulder. She said we’d zoom the next day. Meantime I remembered what she told me—the watch is nothing by itself. It needs the cell phone, which is essentially its switchboard. So I opened the watch app on the phone—I wish I could tell you what I hit after that, but I just kind of touched buttons. I think it was “complications” which sounded logical to me. Anyway, suddenly the phone was back to normal.

I wrote that to genius granddaughter but told her I’d still like a zoom call to see her pretty face. Still waiting tonight, though she said she’d’ call sometime after she got out of class.

So that’s three things I have fixed—or ignored while they fixed themselves: the toilet, the light on the fridge, and my watch. Color me proud, and let’s not talk about the fact that Christian had to show me tonight how to use a pill cutter.

Apparently there are horrendous storms headed this way. Thunder is rolling in the distance and I see lightning flashes. Reports from a friend who is about forty miles to the west at a local lake is that it is like a hurricane. Sophie is in, and I have given her a Benadryl, just because. I enjoy a good storm, but I’m aware of the dangers. When Jacob came out with word of it, I asked him to check on us after it passes.

Be safe, stay inside, and hide under the covers until the storm passes.