Tip-Top

Got up feeling tip-top. As usual, I added to my blog, looked at Facebook, and checked my e-mail. What was this? Another message from a couple who are complete strangers to me, saying they had also received my letter! They expressed great interest and wrote an intelligent letter. I wrote back and filled them in on what has happened so far. Incidentally--or not--I haven't yet received a phone call back from Bianca.
After breakfast, I got my little cart and prepared to walk to the market and Wal-Mart. On my way, I met up with Michele, and told her of the latest re my letter to management. She hadn't been sent my letter, so I assume only certain people were, but whom?
Got my sleep aid and cottage cheese at that poor excuse for a retail store, but the only convenient one, W-M, then shopped the nearby market for blueberries, tomatoes, cauliflower, romaine, and a few other things. Boy, did that fill up my cart with heavy stuff, but luckily, I caught a bus after waiting less than five, and didn't have to walk the full way.
Home and I prepared my salad, ate, then Betty called and sang the praises of the woman, "Dorie," I think it is, who was there vacuuming making her bed, and playing games with her. She wanted me to do Facetime with her, but for some reason, she couldn't pick up.
Left for the footpath and park about 3:00 and was pleased to run into Diane, my idol when it comes to walking. We talked for fifteen or so, then continued on our ways. I checked the little lending library, but sadly, the door hasn't been replaced.
On the way home, Betty called again to tell me that Dorie had taken her television box and replaced it with a different way. Damn. There's no sense at all in trying to tell her that didn't happen, so I asked if she told Carolyn ("yes, and she doesn't think it happened"), and if the T.V. works anyway ("it did, but I keep pushing buttons and now it says 'no signal'")--double damn! If you start pushing buttons, but don't know what they do, disaster looms. I commiserated with her, but I'm helpless here in Ventura. First of all, Dorie surely didn't switch boxes ("she did it before, too, but brought it back"), and second, there's no way I could help even if I was there.
When I got home, I found another email from the couple who had received my letter. I had sort of obliquely suggested we meet and they want to do that. I looked them up (you can hide from the Internet) and was charmed to find they have a  photography studio and have a web site, which includes their picture:

I emailed back, suggesting we meet tomorrow, somewhere on the complex.