Thursday

That shelf divider I bought the other day won't fit on any of my shelves, so I walked to The Market and took it back. I then went to Wal-Mart for vinegar and a few other things and nearby, found a nice place to have my (packed) lunch. Believe it or not, it's in the middle of an office complex on Ralston Avenue. There are tables, chairs, and umbrellas, as well as a lovely small fountain bubbling out of a kind of wooden base--grass and lots of foliage, too. I suppose I was trespassing, but I really doubt if anybody would care. A few people who, presumably, work there, walked by, but paid no attention. I greatly enjoy finding new places to eat outdoors and this was a goodie.

Diane declined to come to my place on Sunday, as she's afraid to again negotiate the walk from the front to my apartment. She suggested we meet today near O'Leary's for lunch and I agreed. I called Noreen to say I'd put it off, and when I finally got her, she was fine with that. 

What I'm not fine with, is the situation with trying to get in touch with Noreen--it's frustrating. Like Jim, she has no mobile phone, but he, at least, has a computer and uses email; she doesn't. Also, frequently, you call and get a message that she hasn't set up her voice mail--or that's it's full or something. 

Home, I prepared the two verses I'm sending to the T.O.P.S. magazine's poetry* contest. There's no prize, they'll just publish some. Mine are mediocre, I think, but we'll see if they meet with favor.

When I got home, about 3:30, for some reason, I felt tired. I set the phone alarm for a half-hour and lay down for a nap. Next thing I knew, I woke up to find it was 5:10; I must have failed to hit the "set" button. I was worried I might be sleepless when I went to bed for the night, but happily, no. Woke for the usual about 2:00, fell back, and didn't wake up until 4:30.   

 I ordered this sink insert yesterday from Temu: 

Let's hope it fits my double sink and proves useful.

Did this jigsaw of little me, in my dining room about 15 years ago:

I'm not quite sure, but I think we were going to some affair at the clubhouse in Sunrise Bay. Wish I still had that outfit!

* Emily Dickinson and William Butler Yeats, my gods, wrote poetry. I write trivial little verses, really doggerel, that I won't pretend is anything approaching their genius.