Aches, Pains, and Mud

I'm a mass of aches and pains.  I spent the entire day clearing out the family memorabilia--photos and documents--in the covered bench Uncle Frank made for Judy in 1963.
This comprises an enormous trove, ranging from my parents' childhoods in Philadelphia and environs to the first twenty or so years of my own marriage and parenthood.  Laid everything out in six separate piles on the dining room table, consolidating and discarding as I went. I'm still not finished putting the things I saved in containers, except for the "early Byrne" and "early Figenshu" items.
In the middle of this, my friend came to hook up the television. She finally did after several calls to minimally helpful Comcast. The other reason for her visit turned out to be a big disappointment: She was going to move the pull-out bed/loveseat from the study into the guest room, now that I sold the beds.  She measured first and darn, there's no way it will fit through the door.
And, wouldn't you know, I just got an e-mail from nephew, Tim, to the effect that he might want to go to the beach and could I put him up tonight?  Sure, but he'll have to sleep on the pull-out, since I sold the guest room twin beds a few weeks ago.  Well, he won't mind.  I assume he's coming by himself--geez, I hope so; if he brings his girlfriend, the living room couch is comfortable, too.
Got a message from my Players & Playwrights pal, Grey L., asking me (and some others in the group) to read and critique his new novel, Mud.  Started it and, really, it's not bad; basic premise is that L.A. (Grey was a writer there for years and is also an entertainment lawyer), is experiencing non-stop rain, a nice reversal of the drought actually going on now.  I told him, though, I wouldn't have any comments until I read more of it.  I'll see him at 1:00 at the P & P meeting.  My tentative plan is to go there, stop at The Greenhouse after, then meet up with Tim at home and go out for dinner, the latter subject to change.