More dreary "business" crapola: Re that email from Bianca, I was looking up the info when Jasmine called. We discussed the whole thing and she asked if I'd ask Bank of America for a photo of the rent check from almost a year ago, September 2021.  Okay, I walked to the bank and after a long wait, got the person there to get on the phone and ask her opposite number in headquarters (or wherever) to send it. (She said I could also call the number myself and ask to get a copy; later, I did so.)

From there, I walked to The Market. Got a huge cauliflower, red onions, and Stevia. I skipped Wal-Mart and impulsively took the 11 bus toward Diane's. I texted her to see if she could meet for lunch, but she's not feeling well and couldn't. No matter, I just got off at the small, sells-everything store where I used to go when Ellen lived on Montgomery Street. Tried on a few tops, but didn't get anything. I bused part way back and got off at Hill Street; walked the rest of the way on the footpath over the 126, so I got about four miles in.

Did some food prep: washed and cut the Brussels sprouts I had bought the other day and roasted the whole cauliflower in the oven. Had a salad for lunch, but couldn't resist some of the veggies later. 

I saw this on Facebook and sent it to Jim:

Think I'll ask if he wants to come to lunch on Friday. Although we go on that evening and I have to be there at 6:30, I'll have plenty of time to do that. Also, I'd like to know if he plans to attend the show--I'm about 99.9 percent sure he has no such plans--what a pal--but we'll see.   

Here's a picture from Welcome Home, the last F.A. show I was in (2019).  The blonde on the left is the one who greeted me Sunday night, whose name I couldn't remember. I still can't, but at least I now know how I know her.