It was empty trash/clothes wash day and I spent the morning hours on those chores.
Got a call from Matt*, the agent, about the insurance on my house: Company wants proof I had the solar panels installed professionally. Why, no, why should I pay somebody? I climbed up there and put them on myself.
Thought I had the contract from All Season Solar--or MJR Clean Energy Ventures**--I'm not even sure which outfit did it or how they're connected, but couldn't find it. Called and they'll call me back; I'll ask them to send some kind of proof to Matt.
Got a welcome call from my friend, who's still settling in, of course. I hope I can get to see her before too long. E-mailed back and forth to niece Carolyn, and we'll get together sometime soon. Got some nice messages from Susan, my former neighbor and dear little Bernice, fellow P & P member. It's nice to read that they miss me--a great bunch.
Got a call-back from and apartment owner, saying I could see the place at 12:50. Went over and ugh, ugh, never-never-never. Not only was it in a unattractive neighborhood, facing some kind of huge warehouse in the front, but it was old, shabby, and small. I was stunned at the kitchen: dark, very cheap-looking wooden cabinets and, incredibly, no dishwasher, microwave OR refrigerator. Thanks, bur no thanks.
Impulsively bought spare ribs, which I intend to simmer in the crock pot today. Finished the Jackie O. book and got Mr. S from the library, a sizzling tell-all about Frankie by his valet (I'm a sucker for this kind of thing). On the other end of the cultural spectrum, I'm listening to a CD by Bill Bryson about how little we really know about Shakespeare and how scholars through centuries have been obsessed with the slightest minutiae about his life. Bryson is a favorite of mine; he wrote some very funny stuff about traveling through the U.S. in which he characterized various states. (I remember he casually noted that Delaware doesn't exist.) He also wrote a riveting account of hiking the Appalachian Trail, bringing in a lot of history, harrowing accounts of accidents, but also triumphant tales of success on the trail. As I recall, he's American, but lived in the U.K. for many years. Anyway, it's a terrific book.
* Coincidentally, his last name is "Bonaventura," the original name of where I now live.
** When I put this in my bill pay section of my bank account, I accidentally wrote "Ventura," instead of "Ventures." Looks like nobody noticed or cares--as long as the bills are paid.