Meatballs and Aunt Maggie

I wish I could persuade myself otherwise, but the fact is, I don't really feel up to par. Every once in a while, I want to lie down, but I don't think it's healthy for me to give in to that urge. The funny thing is, I've been sleeping through the night--my usual getting-up time is now 7:30--which is all to the good, but I still don't think I'm as energetic as I used to be.
I ran the coffee maker through with just vinegar one time, then plain water four times. (I use vinegar for lots of cleaning items, thanks to Heloise.) Did a bit more closet-purging and other chores.
I had a yen for pasta and meatballs, so went out and got rotini* and ground beef. (The first commandment: Thou shalt not buy commercially made meatballs.) Added eggs, bread crumbs, and salt to the meat, rolled and browned them and set them to simmering in a pot of spaghetti sauce. Darn, they were so good, I skipped the pasta and just had several of the meatballs for dinner.
Aside from that, I did a lot of stuff on the computer, including throwing myself on the mercy of Groupon. I asked if they'd refund the forty bucks I spent for my granddaughters to go to Sky-High Sports; when we got there, I found we came on a black-out day, so Mike paid it and I was stuck. They may very well not do it, but I always try--and I'd say I succeed about eighty percent of the time.
Took a drive up on Foothill Road and found myself in Saticoy, so stopped at the library branch there; I was surprised to see you can borrow laptops. I was just about to browse some books when the library aide announced she had to close because there was no plumbing available.
Oh, well, it was close to 5:00 by then, anyway, so I went home.
Got a message from Nancy, asking if I was going to the Widders Dinner on Monday. I had intended to ask her the same, so we both are; I'll be happy to see her there. I also asked if she'd might be able to join me at the Golden Girls lunch on the twenty-third in Ojai, as she lives in Oak View nearby. If not, I think I'll skip that one.
*Spellcheck doesn't recognize the word and wants me to substitute "rotten." Reminds me of my sainted Aunt Maggie, an Irish lass born and bred. Throughout her long life, Italian specialties and their spelling--I'm assuming here--remained a mystery to her. But what's your excuse, Spellcheck?!?