Trying trying trying

Suzanne has been and gone and the floors are cleaner.

She set off the smoke alarm downstairs and I used my ukulele to wave air over it so it stopped. I wish I had video of this; I must have looked DERANGED.  This was four seconds after I answered a phone call from Keith.

There’s me dropping the handset on the sofa, me and Suzanne yelling, and Keith afterwards saying, “That was like an old time radio show.”

I did pick up my FIT test. POOP IS COMING in the immortal words of Marvin Boggs (from the “Reds” movies.) My innards are calmer but I’m still getting messages from the front regarding standing up too fast. My blood pressure is fantastic but lord, that diuretic makes me dry. Normally it’s just my right eye that doesn’t tear enough but this morning I was forced to start crying just to get my eyes open. These days that is easy enough. I’ve cried every day since Jim died. I have no right to, I just do. I was crying about something else though.

White Spot burgers for dinner last night. Thinking of the barley bowl for brekkie this morning.