So, I’m back from the Food Bank, where, after a brief tour, I was able to donate my items; and CVS, where I purchased a glasses leash and arnica gel, of which more in a moment; and then I did most of my shopping at Hannaford, of which more now.
Mine city has adopted the scheme of selling the One True Garbage Bag to residents. They are purple, come in Large and Small, and can be purchased in 5 (large) or 8 (small) bag rolls at the grocery store for $13 the roll.
As you might imagine, the One True Bag system has its detractors. While it’s meant to be “fair” — you only pay for the trash you throw out — they’re expensive, especially in these days of $5 blocks of cream cheese, and, in short, the bags grow legs and walk out of the store.
Which means that they must be hidden behind the checkout counter, like girly magazines, and the customer must ask to have them added to their order as they’re emptying the contents of their basket onto the conveyor.
It will surprise no one to hear that I usually forget to do this. It will perhaps surprise some — certainly, it surprised me — that, this morning, I did remember to ask for a couple rolls of the One True to be added to my order, only?
The cashier failed to do this. No, she didn’t charge me for them; it just flew out of her brain.
So, now, I have the challenge of remembering to ask for the One True the next time I’m at the store. Or, possibly, I will make a Special Pilgrimage. And honestly? That’s most likely.
Which brings us to arnica. First, my apologies for having concerned people.
What Happened is that I fell forcibly into a door and whacked my head (and as I found out later, my left wrist, too). No, I don’t know how I did it. No, I did not pass out. No, I do not have a concussion. Speed was involved, which is often the case when I sustain these kinds of injuries. I refer you to Val Con and Theo, both of whom were too fast for their own good until they grew into their reactions. The difference being that I never grew into my reactions.
The result of the Encounter with the door was a lump on my forehead; I immediately applied ice; the swelling went down, and while I do have a slightly discolored bump on my forehead, it is gently mauve, not technicolor, and the black eye I feared has not materialized.
The wrist only started to hurt yesterday, and again — no idea. I did, however, put some arnica gel on it when I got home and already the bruise has faded, which is — Fast Work and I’ll make sure to keep some of this stuff in inventory, thank you very much to those who suggested it.
I finished Half an Orange last night and started The Witches of Cambridge this morning. Given my usual commentary on the subject of writing, I shouldn’t like Alice Hoffman, but every time I say to myself, “Oh, I’ll just read the first page,” I wind up reading the whole thing, and it looks like she’s Done It Again.
And that? Is all I’ve got. Movie starts at 12:55, and needlework starts at 5, and after I come home and serve up a belated Happy Hour, I’ll have my choice of the next episode of “Maigret” or The Witches of Cambridge (or, probably, both) to keep the doomscrolling down to levels that are not damaging to what I like to call my sanity.
Everybody stay safe. I’ll check in tomorrow.