See? I am keeping up to date on what day it is. I can't say the same for the garbologists; they're late. Our regular pickup day is Wednesday but, with Monday being a holiday, they're a day behind and now they're an hour behind. I've always wondered if they get stuck working on Saturday if they've got Monday off. Seems like that wouldn't be much of a "holiday", would it? (I wonder if the new tenants noticed the bags on the curbs and put theirs out... have they lived here long enough to make trash? yeah, probably, moving always makes trash.)
We got the dishwasher all loaded up last night--and forgot to turn it on so it's running now. Man, I hate when that happens. I hate being forgetful. I have all kinds of patience for other people's failings (I'm kind of a paragon about it) but I make absolutely no allowances for my own. Doesn't seem right, does it? No, no it doesn't. I need to give myself a break instead of castigating myself. (ooh, I love words. that's a good one, don't you think?)
I actually sold things yesterday--big things. Five hundred dollars of things to one person and she wanted it, every molecule of it. I was actually a salesperson. It felt very strange.
It was pretty and pink when I got up this morning. The pink didn't show up much on the view to the east but you can kind of see the pink at the horizon in the view to the west. I hate getting up so early that it isn't full light but I like getting up early to see the dawn unfold. Illogical, but welcome to my world.
I harvested the basil this morning and plonked it into a giant bowl so that I can't procrastinate about preserving it tonight after work. Oh, the kitchen smells so wonderful right now with all that basil perfuming the air. I'm picturing all that basil-y flavor brightening up dishes all winter. Mmm.
Yoga was good. They're having a "30 days for $30" promo and I looked at the calendar of classes. I think I can make a few each week so I bought into it. Maybe if I push myself to go I'll start to feel better, happier, more flexible, less achy. Maybe it'll motivate me to buckle down to eating better and not cheating so much. If it does all that it'll totally be worth thirty bucks. Fingers crossed.
September 5--John Singer Sargent, Two Girls on a Lawn. Jennie and Susanna were inseparable. They considered themselves two halves of a whole. They weren't twins. They weren't sisters. They had met at Miss Abigail's School of Deportment when they were eight years old and had been best friends ever since. Their mothers had long ago given up trying to put them in any color but black or white. They planned to spend the rest of their lives together. Even when Reggie from two streets over fell in love with Jennie and followed her around like the train of her dress their girls were constantly together. After a few weeks of trying to maneuver Susanna out of the picture without success he picked up his brown bowler hat from the entry hall table and went sadly on his way.
Ugh, geese are flying over honking away. You know what that means, don't you? Yes, you do. I'm not saying it, but we both know things will be changing soon. Man, time = zoom. More work today. Maybe I'll have another paying customer. Two days in a row? Could be. And here come the garbage guys, my morning's complete.