Tuesday

I kept my appointment with Harvey M. at The Townehouse (that spelling is so damn annoying) at 11:00 and hey, I really, really like the place. I saw the studio, the least expensive (of course, it's considerably more than what I pay for my present apartment) and the one-bedroom, which I much prefer. Naturally, they had the models beautifully decorated and, if I wanted to pay an extra four hundred a month for it, showed me one on the sixth floor--wonderful views, but I don't think I'll do that. Anyway, I was introduced to staff and, one and all, they were courteous and welcoming. That's true of every such establishment I've ever visited, of course--any worker who isn't wouldn't be there long. I emphasized that I wasn't thinking of moving very soon, if ever, but if I was, the Townehouse would be it.   

After lunch, I put my book returns in my little cart and walked over the footpath bridge to the Hill Street branch of the library. How I love this place! I saw a book on the shelf called Shit, Actually, and naturally, had to read it. It's a tongue-in-cheek review of different movies, including Love, Actually, of course, and The Fugitive, by Lindy West. It's so hysterically funny, I actually laughed out loud. This gal, who's from Seattle, writes for the NY Time (that rag doesn't deserve her) and her "reviews" are sarcasm raised to a beautiful art form. Shocking?  Pretty much. Outrageous? Oh, yes. Profane? Sure thing. Damn, where has she been all my life? Anyway, I read most of it and took out another of hers called Shill, which I suspect is no sheltered lady book, either.*

Walked from there to the market for produce, then bused home. Did some food prep, such as stir-frying several pounds of ground turkey, onion, and broccoli, then dividing it into portions. Had one for dinner and froze the rest for other days. Called Ellen, who will pick me up today after her Brazilian blowout, to pick up a blow-up bed. But now, I'm not sure: I stopped in at Suzanne's after dinner and she asked if I wanted to borrow what she called a "futon." It's actually a fold-up kind of mattress. I think I'll ask to borrow it and will see if that will serve. 

I was hugely disappointed to hear from son, Mike, that his travel plans have been cancelled due the COVID flare-up here. 

*It isn't, but it's not as good as the other book--more like a fat girl, super feminist rant. I probably won't finish it.