All righty, then! Chores have been retired, po box run has been accomplished, hairs have been cut, cottage cheese taken on at the grocery.
There was a sympathy card at the post office box, and a bag of hot chocolate mix. I don’t know what lunch will be — probably hot chocolate isn’t lunch by itself. I may call something in, as a better alternative to having Firefly cook.
My plan is to bear down and work this afternoon and tomorrow, since I am temporarily ahead of the chores. Well, not all the chores; I owe those two folks headshots and “a brief bio,” and should probably do that first. I think I have a brief bio and the headshot problem has been solved — thanks to all who stepped forward to share their expertise! — and that’s probably a better use of my time than angsting over what I’ll make to eat.
So. First world problems. Not going to be able to say that much longer.
The stylist is a music enthusiast — big Elvis fan, follows a particular impersonator; has plans to go with a girlfriend to the Grand Ole Opry; not only knows what The Band was, but can reel off the names of the anchors. She already has tickets to see Willie, Dylan, and Sheryl Crow at Bangor this summer. I didn’t know Willie was coming to Bangor this summer.
Today, she said that she’s starting to feel old, and I got a little bit of a shiver right then. Steve had told me he was starting to “feel old” — and he wasn’t wrong: once you start mooching into your 70s, you’re legitimately old. But to feel old — I don’t. I feel tired and sad and lost, but I don’t feel old — which is just another item in an ever-growing list of things that I don’t know how I feel about.
And on that note — off to order in lunch, and find me that “short bio.”
Memories kicked up a picture from eight years ago.
Also, proof of hairs being cut:
