One of Those Days

Yesterday was one of those days, busy from dawn to dusk, working on this and that and last night I was down-right tired. If I could get a little more organized maybe it would be easier, like Marie Kondo says, if it doesn’t bring joy, toss it out. The trouble is that at this stage of my life, almost everything brings me joy, I’m glad to be among the living, healthy, and having fun with what I do every day. I even get a kick out of going to the carwash, which makes me wonder if I have set my aspirations too low.


Back to yesterday, I had lunch with a fascinating lady I had never met before. She runs a local tour company and has a list of upcoming tours a mile long. They all sound like fun, and I’d like to be first in line to see some of the things she has in mind. I’m thinking of going on one in June, maybe to a vineyard, so that I can have a glass of vino and not have to worry about being tailed by someone with red and blue lights. (Message me and I’ll reveal her contact info).


After lunch, the errands started: carwash, grocery, pharmacy, gas, and post office. Five errands on one trip. I put on my shopping armor and got started. I arrived at the carwash before I remembered that I forgot my list and I knew the hazards of going to the grocery without one. I trekked home, picked it up, and headed to do my other four errands, but noticed a yard sale, so took a quick detour to see what treasures might be lurking there. I found a brand-new Marine Corps sweatshirt, just my size for $2, so I couldn’t resist and handed over my two bucks. I returned to my car and realized that my glasses were missing, not on my head, nose, in my purse, or car, so back home I went. Luckily, they were waiting for me on the kitchen counter where I had placed them.


I was annoyed at myself, but still needed to go to the grocery, pharmacy, post office, and to the station to put some gas in my rig. It was about three o’clock and the after-work traffic had picked up (one of my high school classmates recently complained that he liked the Boise traffic of the 1950s, but those days are dead and gone, my friend). The gas light had been on for a few trips, so fueling up became my priority, but everybody else in Boise had the same idea and it became a waiting game. Then to the post office, forget that, that line was out the door so those birthday cards would have to be late. Pharmacy was a miracle with no line, and I picked my prescription in five minutes. The supermarket parking lot didn’t look full, but I was wrong. Everybody and their brother were there, and guess what, when I went home to retrieve my glasses, I must have left my shopping list on the kitchen counter because it wasn’t in my purse. I knew it contained only six items, but what were they? I didn’t want to go home again, so decided to become an aisle-walker and march through every aisle. Surely, I would remember, and I sort of did. Soon I had twenty-two items, mostly visual purchases, but some of which might have been on my list. The last aisle was you-know-what, wine, which wasn’t on my list, but it sounded like a good idea, at that point. Two bottles. (I might have company, who knows?)


I was finally ready to bare the traffic and go home. I paid the friendly grocery clerk and walked to my car, but where are my keys? I reached in my hip pocket, no keys, but the grocery list was (I congratulated myself that I hadn’t forgotten a thing on the list). The keys were in my purse. Life was good, everything where it should have been, nothing was missing, and I had a new bottle of wine, eh, two bottles of wine.


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