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livingdebI knew I should have saved some of yesterday's content for today. Oh well.
Today the backs of my legs barely hurt, which was a wonderful relief.
I used my fabulous-feeling body to pay some bills. Go out for brunch. Do minor grocery shopping. Practice guitar. Read the Apartment Therapy website (especially the entries on the Fall Cure, which is where people go through the book I just got and share their experiences; they are on week two already). Cook a big supper and pack the leftovers as three lunches. Do laundry and dishes. Put away clothes. Change the sheets. Play sudoku. Read web journals.
I guess that's a lot after all. Just not overly exciting to write about.
Here's a question. Do you have names for any of your inanimate objects? Many people name their cars. R. also has names for some of his other prized possessions. I don't generally name things. All I can think of is Bowling Pig, which is a big pink stuffed pig I got as a gift at the wake I held for my first car. Bowling Pig's nose can easily be pushed into her face to make a storage compartment, into which fits perfectly a small purple elephant I have that is made of pompoms. Or, leaving this cavity empty, the pig could remind one of a bowling ball. And the inside-out nose does, in fact, functionally work to make it easier to roll her across the floor.
Today the backs of my legs barely hurt, which was a wonderful relief.
I used my fabulous-feeling body to pay some bills. Go out for brunch. Do minor grocery shopping. Practice guitar. Read the Apartment Therapy website (especially the entries on the Fall Cure, which is where people go through the book I just got and share their experiences; they are on week two already). Cook a big supper and pack the leftovers as three lunches. Do laundry and dishes. Put away clothes. Change the sheets. Play sudoku. Read web journals.
I guess that's a lot after all. Just not overly exciting to write about.
Here's a question. Do you have names for any of your inanimate objects? Many people name their cars. R. also has names for some of his other prized possessions. I don't generally name things. All I can think of is Bowling Pig, which is a big pink stuffed pig I got as a gift at the wake I held for my first car. Bowling Pig's nose can easily be pushed into her face to make a storage compartment, into which fits perfectly a small purple elephant I have that is made of pompoms. Or, leaving this cavity empty, the pig could remind one of a bowling ball. And the inside-out nose does, in fact, functionally work to make it easier to roll her across the floor.