After the Sunday routine, I walked to the market for lettuce, blueberries, apples, and tangerines. Walked back, rather than taking the bus, so I got about three in. Quartered my cabbage, wedged two apples, and put them to slowly cook in the--what else?--slow cooker. Had lunch, then fooled around on the laptop. At that point, I just didn't feel like going to town on to the park.
In fact, I was a little draggy. I spent a lot of time on this laptop, doing more of these *@!%$ puzzles--when am I going to get over this?--and looking up various topics of interest. Finally, after a big salad lunch, I took a short (maybe a mile) walk around the neighborhood. Saw Steve and chatted with him for a bit.
And there was Maggie on the corner. I again asked her if I could get her anything--a sandwich, some lotion?--and she again politely refused. Her legs are so very, very swollen and bright red--they must be terribly painful. When I left her, I stopped a half-block away and called the police again to see if somebody could come and persuade her accept help. But after I described the situation, the dispatcher said they had already gone to talk to her, but she refuses to go to the shelter--"God will take care of me." (Well, he's not doing such a hot job of it.)
I'm mulling over what to do now. I think I'll see if the priest in this parish--I'll ask Suzanne if she knows him--would come and maybe persuade her to get the help she needs. I don't know myself what's available; I think there's a newly built shelter for homeless, but I'll have to find out.
Betty called to tell me about a new puzzle Carolyn concocted for her, crowing over her success: "I got every one!" Talk about depressing--they were about on a second grade level.
Just had a sketchy dinner and that's okay. I'm just glad the weekend's over.
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