Better

I'm up, I'm down, I'm up again. Somebody from Miramar called me to ask if I had gotten the ointment; I had, but mentioned the directions were unclear and I wanted to talk to Dr. F. Well, heaven forfend any doctor would deign to talk to a patient on the phone, so she said she'd ask him about it. She called back to say this, that, and the other, and it doesn't matter in the least because my eye is much better--almost entirely healed, in fact, which leads me to believe it wasn't an infection, after all, but a scratch from the tiny thing the doc had removed from under my lid. Anyway, I haven't yet even used the ointment at all, and won't unless it proves to be a problem later.

I spent the entire morning in pulling my income tax stuff together; emailed Michelle with some questions and hope I'd almost over that horrible task. 

Bused to town after lunch, which was so enjoyable. On a Wednesday, it wasn't crowded--just enough to be festive--and I strolled Main Street and the shops I like. Bought a blouse and was pleased to find it was discounted. Earlier, I had left a message for my friend, across-the-street neighbor, and daily walking partner in Sunrise Bay, Susan G., wishing her a happy eightieth birthday. She called me back while I was riding home on the bus and we had a good chat.

Home about 4:00 and I violated one of my own rules: not to drink alone. It was a gorgeous day and I took my book (about the Amanda Knox case), poured myself a Heineken, and sat on the patio for an hour or so. It was lovely and, as it always does on these occasions, a phrase from Graham Greene's A Burnt Out Case occurred to me. His book concerns a world-weary man, bored with life, who moves to Africa and starts assisting at a hospital. He's almost afraid to believe he can be content, but it seems he is, and Greene has him think that "maybe he had found here a country and a life."  For some reason, that has stayed in my mind for fifty or so years, since I read the book, and it comes up now. I think I've found here, in  Ventura, California, a "country"--the west country--and a life.