Healer, Musician, Bookmaker, Poet

Silkie eggs.  Three; they’re about half the size of a commercial chicken egg.  Turkey sausage.  Eh; tastes like turkey, not spicy enough, but a fraction of the fat of regular sausage.  A slice of reduced fat swiss and some dill thrown into the eggs, a cup of Cold Stop tea, and you’ve got yourself a breakfast just like mine.

Not bad, really.  I’ll be hungry by break time.

I will not be having:  the donuts and muffins that appear every Friday morning at work.

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The tax assessor came through yesterday and was so agog at the house that it was hard to put a negative slant on things.  He just loved the place, as everyone does.  It was interesting to look at the appraisal, which the original mortgage holder emailed to me.  They mentioned a few things that were inaccurate or downright wrong, but some of that could have been in order to get financing.  He did say he’ll be able to get the assessment down.  The cement slab that we’re planning to remove (that was under the plywood porch) is actually taxable at a worth of some $900 (ha!), but he said to call him when we take it away so he can check it off the report.  The new assessment doesn’t go into effect until next July, so we’ll have it off by then.  Of course, I wanted to put up a screen porch there, which will mean more tax again.  Maybe I’ll put it up after July and get a few months’ grace.  He’ll see it again next Fall and adjust again.

Sigh.  The taxes are pretty high already.

State Farm lady still hasn’t called back, since I sent her the letter from the roofing contractor saying that the cedar clapboards are fine.  I’ll leave her one more message today and ask if I should just be dealing with someone else.

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After the assessor left, I was just putting on my shoes to go over and help Karl run conduit in their basement, when the phone rang.  I picked it up and heard a voice and the echo of a voice, like the living room extension phone was also broadcasting.  This confused me enough to say “hello?” two or three times, whereupon the voice said, “It’s me, Chris!” as though I should know.  I said, “Why am I hearing –??” and there was a knock at the window.  It was Chris himself, calling from ten feet away, and I laughed.

He’d been visiting a friend in this town and decided to stop by and look at the progress on the floors.  We talked a little bit about the weekend, too, and how we could maximize our time.  We could have something like a class schedule, where we know we’ll be spending x amount of time on one thing, then moving to another.  There is much to do.

He asked if I had any spare moving blankets to help set up sound-separation areas for recording, and I borrowed two from Karl.  They’re clean and neatly folded in the barn – he’s quite specific about how they’re stored.  The rest of the barn looks like there was an earthquake, but the moving blankets for some reason are pristine.

Finally we said our goodbyes and I drove next door to help with pushing electrical cable through metal rings for a bit.  Linus was in evidence, popping into the crawl space to keep K. company.  By the time I was heading back to my car, Rose got home from work and we went out to the dark chicken coop to gather eggs.  Seven last night!  And six the night before!  The most ever.  Hence the three Silkie eggs this morning; I came home with a sixpack.  The other three are from the larger hens.

Life is good; and now I am a bit late to get into the tub and wash my hair.  Only a half day today, and then I have Christmas shopping to do and an iPhone to order.  That will be the fun part of my week.

It’s pouring.  Pouring, and so windy it sounds, at times, like a gale.

The spot-repair on the floor didn’t go so well.  At K’s suggestion I hand-sanded some drip spots and places where either the brush had left a ridge or a piece of grit had stuck into the urethane.  After cleaning up the residual dust I brushed a new, thin coat on those spots.

As they dried I could tell the edges would be visible – hadn’t K. said it doesn’t match up with itself, and that’s why we had to do the whole floor at once? – and they were duller than the rest of the floor, still.  Some of the places I thought I’d sanded enough were still ridgy.  Overall the floor looked pretty splotchy where light hit it.  I was discouraged, after so many hours of working on it and so many more days into cold weather without the stove in.

I called Karl, who was still in the midst of running electrical conduit next door, and in spite of his own state of overwhelm, managed to aver that it wasn’t such a big deal; we’d just take the half-sheet sander and sand the whole dining room evenly and put one more coat on it.  Oh, goody.  A fourth coat, after sanding on my knees for an hour or two.  Can I do it drunk with a fork in my eye?

I’d only attempted the dining room a.k.a. parlor, not the front hall, at least.  I think I’ll leave the front hall JUST as it is.  It may have a few ridges, but it’s shiny.

Well, what can I say?  I do many things well; urethaning floors isn’t one of them yet.

I got in a small, apathetic practice, with painful fingers.  I thought they were getting better yesterday, but even as I worked last night, a new split spontaneously opened up on my middle finger.  Possibly bandages today.  (sigh)

So I went to bed around ten, gearing up for at least 6-1/2 hours of sleep – my tired standard this week, apparently – and about two a.m. woke up a) having to pee, and b) with my left ear and sinuses completely blocked.  The cold is better, but there are these phases of congestion.  It was raining then, and I thought I could hear a couple of birds singing in what looked like bright moonlight in spite of the overcast.  But my ear wasn’t open so it may have been blood flowing (wow, I almost typed “flood blowing”) through my brain.  I went downstairs to do my business, walking around the perimeter of the dining room so as not to step on any blotches, and when I went back to bed it was a long time before I could fall asleep again.  Once when I began to drift off there was a long, shattering crash.  I thought it was thunder but hadn’t seen any lightning against my eyelids.  Then I wondered if another big section of plaster had come down in the front bedroom.  When I arose at 5:00 I checked, but there was no evidence.  Nothing else looks out of place down here.  Maybe something blew over outside, or maybe indeed it was thunder.

Anyway it is December third and we are having a load of rain.  Despite the sloppiness outside and the inevitable water in the basement, I am glad it is liquid water and not snow.

Once back asleep I dreamt in several scenarios of people trying to kill me.  This seemed to go on forever.  In another scene, the violinist from the subway in New York with whom I had a brief affair (circa 1986) had somehow become crippled and outfitted a bus he could drive.  I didn’t see him, only was looking into the front of the bus, at his folded wheelchair, at the driver’s seat.  Writing this, I wonder if this is how I feel about my musician self.  I am largely unprepared for this big recording weekend coming up, and even semi-cancelled Monday in favor of working the day job.  I’m still trying to make up hours lost from the holidays and touring.  My paychecks have been just over half of what they usually are.  It’s got me worried.  The 0b@ma bucks are here, some of them still left after paying off things, but they’re not supposed to be part of my regular income.  I’ll play it by ear, as they say.  There is a lot of work to do right now and I’m enjoying being there.

In another dream I found a large stash of clothes I forgot I had.  This was delightful, but I pulled out a couple of pairs of great corduroys which, to my dismay, no longer fit.  Also my room seemed to be very unprivate.

This one is obvious.  The Christmas party is in 8 days and have I lost pound one to fit nicely into my new, red corduroy pants?  No.  I have been lame about that.  It’s not much, it’s four pounds, maybe five.  Anyone can lose five pounds.  But I’ve been full of excuses.  So I decided to dial back the carbs somewhat.  Last year when I was being advised to avoid gluten among other things, I inadvertently lost a bunch of weight.  I’ve never been an advocate of the extreme low-carb regimen, certainly not as a longterm fix, but in the short term maybe there’s something to it.  I know folks for whom it’s worked.  Maybe I can relax my tedious opinions for a bit.  I like relaxing my tedious opinions.  It’s nice for me and those around me.

Good god (Pan; I think I’ll choose Pan this time) – I must leave in half an hour and haven’t bathed, done dishes, or made lunch.  I’d much rather sit here and write the morning long.  More later, including about tonight’s impending visit by the tax assessor.  Funny how I can take the exact same house and say, “Oh, insurance inspector lady, look what a wonderful and sound house!  Insure me!” and then say, “Oh, tax assessor guy, look what a rundown and sad place!  Lower my taxes!”

My mantra for the day.  After a few nights at the family’s house, I am missing the quiet emptiness of my own.  Can vast space be cozy?  It is, and I’ll return to it tonight.  To think that, when I first moved in there, it was hard to sleep because it felt so strange.

I have not been able to get to bed at my usual time because of various activities and noise in the house.  One night, Pearl and her boyfriend laughing and giggling and movie-watching just under my room; last night, Karl banging in the cellar, putting up wiring conduits until nearly 11:00.  And I’ve slept fitfully, waking often to look at the clock with a flashlight, not wanting that loud alarm to go off an hour and a half before anyone else gets up.

I almost ordered the iPh0ne last night, online.  It was a long process, and Rose and I spent much of it trying to find an additional case with clip that would suit her.  After all that, when I discovered how much personal info they’d need to switch my same phone number over, I decided to go to the AT and T store and do it in person rather than type in everything about my identity and send it into the ether.  All of that seemed like wasted time.  This cold is still gripping me, too, so it was not the most comfortable evening.  Yet — it all reminds me of how much I love my health, my home, having control over my environment and schedule.  And loving that I will return to these things shortly.  One of these days I’ll catch up on sleep, too.

In my scattered sleep I kept dreaming about the iPh0ne.  I guess there are worse things to dream about, but for Pete’s sake.  What’s this new obsession replacing?  :)

When C@sio watches first came out, I used to dream I had a watch that would play video games and do magical things.  Little did I know…

Okay, to work then.  I have fun things to build.

Me and my sweetie.  (Thanks, cocoabean, for pointing out what was in front of my nose!)

Just a small post, with a fraction of battery life remaining.  I’ve spent three nights at my sister’s, whilst putting three coats of urethane on some floors at my house.  Looking forward to this long, sumptuous weekend with internet connection, I managed to leave my power supply at work.  Ah, well.  I didn’t have much time to recreate anyway.

It’s back to the job today, and I hope to sleep in my own fine bed tonight if the house isn’t too stinky.  Urethane lingers.  But the floors look magnificent.  I don’t know how to post a link here yet the way it will go automatically, but here is a picture of the first coat:  http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=416614&id=1318453661 .  So much I still don’t know about WordPress, like — how do I put a photo directly into my entry?  Anybody know?  It’s kind of hard to find help pages quickly here.

And quickly is about all the time I have these days.

We had a lovely Thanksgiving here, and Dar was able to come for a while before heading out to his sister’s house in New Hampshire.  I told him he could consider doing Christmas exclusively with us, that people do different things from one holiday to the next and I’m sure she would understand if, just once, he didn’t show up there.  It certainly would save a few hours of driving.  The very next night I went to Boston to see his show, and we ate at our favorite Thai place.  The play was very good.  There were two other actors I knew way back when among the cast, and I found it hard to think of anything to say to them besides bland, smiling pleasantries.  I guess when you don’t work with someone for ten years there isn’t so much in common any more.  I wanted to gush, to say they were fabulous.  But it wouldn’t have been sincere — they were very good, and I always enjoy seeing them onstage in anything.  But I couldn’t dredge up any more lavish praise.  It reminded me of my childhood and teens, when I was so shy.

I had a second feast yesterday with other friends, and they always have a dozen or sixteen folks over, some of whom I’ve met in past years and some of whom are new to me.  Not the best in crowds, it took me a good while to enter conversations.  Then, of course, it became all about the house and people wanted to see pictures.  Such nice friends, my friends have.

I skipped the long walk after the meal in order to get home and put down the third coat of urethane.  I hope this evens everything out.  I’m so done with that job!  We’ll see today how it looks.

In big news, Dar might be getting me an iPhone for Christmas.  I resisted all this time, but now they’re more affordable and the monthly subscription isn’t all that much more than my current cell phone.  And Rose won’t stop yakking about hers.  It’s quite something.

Okay, down to 13% battery and time to get ready for work.  More as it happens, or shortly thereafter.

Vacuuming the sanded floor has taken two evenings.  It involves sucking sawdust out of EVERY CRACK BETWEEN EVERY TWO BOARDS on the whole floor, and often running the blade of a putty knife down the cracks to loosen the impacted dust.

Tonight, after work and after my haircut and possibly an oil change, and after making cranberry sauce for tomorrow, and packing a bag for a couple of nights, I plan to vac the floor once-over and clean it with a microfiber mop (ha, I wrote “microfiber mob” – “WIPE ‘EM, guys!”) and put the first coat of urethane on it.  That seems an awful lot for one night, but the next few days are critical in this process and I want that stove IN.

My furnace is still going skippity-doo-dah a lot, so the sooner I don’t have to rely on that the better.  Karl showed me how to let more water into the tank from the inbound water pipe.  As the steam heat operates, the water level slowly goes down and must be replenished.  He also showed me how to drain the little reservoir with the float ball every so often, as it gets gunky at the bottom.  I drained out a quart or two of black water from it.  Meanwhile the heat is still working okay even though three radiators are detached down here.  I ran an extension cord from the mudroom into the bathroom and have used my little square ceramic heater a couple of times.  I hate bathing in a cold room, especially with the hand-held sprayer as opposed to a shower.  At least you can stand under a hot shower and warm up a little.  The sit-down shower is chillier.  But the heater works nicely and nothing, but nothing, beats a hot soak.

The fun part about coaxing the former dining room into being a new parlor is the paint.  I primed two areas of wall behind where the radiators go, and last night put a coat of Wild Bamboo paint on the primer.  This is a sort of muted, rich yellow with a hint of goldy-green.  Right now, in the lamplight of the dark morning, it looks bright, but in daylight it’ll get complex and succulent, at least I hope so.  I did realize that we can’t replace the radiators anyway until the new quarter-round molding is on, and I don’t even know when that’s happening yet.  But once the stove is in, it doesn’t really matter when the radiators go back, except they’re in the way wherever else they are.  They also weigh a lot, so when I say “we,” I mean Karl.

Maybe Saturday: two one-ton pallets of pellets from Manchester, and quarter round molding for the parlor and hall.

Friday I’m going to see Dar in A Tale of Two Cities. He’s also rehearsing for a new version of A Christmas Carol. It’s a four-person show with no director.  He’s played Scrooge any number of times in different productions, and happens to be a wonderful director himself.  Of course with no guiding hand it’s hard to have a unified vision.  There have been a few stressful incidents.

Ach, I’m tired.  I was nearly falling asleep on the way to my doctor’s appointment yesterday.  I had a mammogram, pap, bloodwork.  I learned that my Os, the opening to my uterus, is very tiny.  She almost couldn’t find it.  And my blood pressure was 100/62.

No period now for nearly three cycles.

Anyway, time to pull on some clothes and get presentable for another day building microphone and speaker toys.  Yay!

Clock ticking, a distant truck in the early darkness.  The sound of chewing, the click of spoon and bowl.  And, recently, the hissy whoosh of steam billowing out of an open radiator pipe.  Oops.

Other than that, the sanding went quite well.  Karl helped for hours; Rose came over and put in some time, in spite of having pressing things to do at home.  The dining room is done, the front hallway done except for some edge sanding.  The big sander must be returned this morning, so we were pressed to finish as much as possible for this rental’s worth.  I’m pleased.

Three radiators were removed, and will stay off until the floors are urethaned.  This means I have no heat in a lot of the downstairs.  I made sure to ask K. if the knobs were off so that I could run the heat if need be, and he double checked.  But when it finally came up this morning there was a great sound, and a factory’s worth of steam billowed up from this one pipe.  It was rather pretty, but this house had so many moisture problems over the summer, I didn’t want to be cleaning up a drippy wall, besides which the floor can’t get wet.  So I reluctantly turned the heat off.  I don’t know what the forecast is, but it was nice yesterday.  Maybe I can get away without heat until the stove is in.

Such adventures.

I’ll try to get organized around final-cleaning and putting down the first coat tonight, after grocery shopping.  At least the dining room.  I’ll have to stay next door for a couple of nights.  When it comes to doing the front hall, I could set up my airbed in the little sitting room and just live in the ell until that’s dry.  I can still get to the living room through the sitting room; I just won’t go upstairs.  It’ll be like camping.  Except stinkier.

Man, my feet are cold right now.

The other brilliant thought I had was to prime and paint the areas behind the radiators before putting them back.  That means I have to pick up some paint.  But that’ll encourage me to finish painting the dining room, too.  Then replace the quarter-round molding along the floor, and guess what??  I’ll have one finished room.  Unbelievable.

Lunchtime

One sander returned, paint acquired, some work done at the job.  I may have fried a circuit board by putting too much power through it. In spite of that oops, I am happy today.  K. closed off the radiator pipe – it was wide open, he said.  No more steam locomotive.  Belinda is back to help with the busy production schedule.  All is well; I am content, and I will try to get the first coat of urethane on the dining room floor tonight.

This morning the rain comes.  I hear it pouring, feel the slight movement of cool air, and remind myself that I have to put up window plastic very soon.  Sunday might be the day for that.  No more fooling around with the weather; it’s almost Thanksgiving.  We’ve been very lucky this month but it’s surely headed to cold now.

I awoke maybe twenty minutes early, having to pee.  When the upstairs bathroom is fixed (next year) I’ll be able to make a short stop and go back to bed!  But for now it isn’t worth coming downstairs and then trying to go back and get in the last 15 minutes of denial before having to face the dark and chilly morning.

Last night when I came home after errands, I noticed a basement light was on.  Investigation  showed that Karl had done an adjustment on the furnace.  There is a glass tube in front with water in it, and it bobs up and down a bit when the furnace is on.  I still don’t know what this is for, but I’d noticed it had only about an inch of water in it yesterday morning, so I’d emailed him about it.  (He’d stayed home to work on cars.)  He said there was a valve I could turn to let some more water in, and added, “Very EZ to do.  You can do it drunk with a fork in your eye.”  Good smile on a work morning.

The glass tube has nothing to do with the “skippiness” of the furnace, but he also said I do not have to call Furnace Guy at this time, so I’m trying not to worry about it.

This morning the furnace seems mostly steady.

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Work was quiet, with a few people out.  I went steadily all day.  I’m trying to tighten up my work ethic.  It’s too easy, unsupervised, to spend too much time on the computer.  It’s loose, and no one is punching a time clock, but my own behavior was bothering me.  I know I’m not always completely straight in my life but I do try.

Like at lunch.  I went to the bakery/deli for a sandwich.  For the second time this year, the kid forgot to ring me up before the sandwich was made, and they handed it to me and said thank you and you’re all set.  I could have walked with the goods.  Instead, like last time, I told them I hadn’t paid for it.  I felt all righteous on the way back, thinking I was so honest, until I realized much of why I’d done it was in case I was caught at the last moment.  Then on top of trying to walk with the sandwich, I’d have had to lie and say, “Oh!!  I completely forgot!”  So much for integrity, I guess.

Boy, it is pouring.  The path to the driveway will be pooling.

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Dinner next door: an invented dish involving stuffed red bell peppers and homegrown eggs.  The stuffing mix was brown and wild rice, El Pato hot sauce, salsa, onion, and I don’t know what else.  The peppers were roasted on the grill first.  Stuffed, then an egg cracked on the top and baked until egg was done.  It sounds kind of weird, but let me tell you it was GOOD.

I could so go back to sleep right now.

Chilly morning again.  Black dark outside; the furnace was stuttering again this morning, so when the temp was tolerable I just turned it off.  Must have that looked at.  Meanwhile there is a soft hum of occasional cars going down Main Street (who is going to work already?).  The tick of the little T.J.M@xx clock on the mantel.  The pipes knocking here and there as the heat line adjusts.

What a convoluted dream I had.  I don’t so much remember it now, only that it was complicated and I was glad enough to leave it.  I went to bed at 8:20; I was so tired, almost fell asleep in the chair down here first.  Once in bed I couldn’t get comfortable enough to fall right to sleep.  I should have started on my back and done some Reiki; that usually puts me out.  But I curled up sideways on my new pillows, hoping for something more womblike, and didn’t quite achieve it.

I’m almost sure it’s about coming down off the Pred.  Even just a few days on it can swing me a bit.  It’s the trade.  The poison ivy on my bum never blistered, so at least I didn’t have that discomfort.  And my fingers are, of course, flat and smooth at this point.  I enjoyed the pretty skin-glow on my face.  Now it’s back to reality.

I still love my life so much!

Carol said, “I’ve never known anyone with so many things.” Meaning, things wrong.  That made me sad.  I don’t want to the be One with the Things Wrong.  I don’t have a lot of things wrong.  It’s just that the things that ARE wrong need a lot of maintenance when I’m on the road, and that’s when she sees me.  IBS isn’t simple, and neither are skin issues.

Surely this paralysis will ease over the next few days.  Body will balance, I’ll sort out how to approach things, feel less overcommitted.  It doesn’t matter that everything is happening much later than I expected or wanted it to now – refinishing the floor, putting in the stove, working on songs.  It looks like Sunday we might be able to rent the sander.  K’s problem right now is that their main car is out of commission and he has to fix that first.  If he’s still working on cars by Sunday, there will be no floor sanding yet.  I exercise a reluctant patience for these family favors.

It’s still early; I think I’ll try to go in before the usual time.  It will be another busy day.

I worked hard all day, and then for whatever reason I had to escape, escape.  Into dinner, into a movie, into wine.  Vague echoes of sadness from somewhere.  It’s like I can’t stand to be fully awake for very long.

I tried to practice but couldn’t get my mind around it.  My voice was tired, sluggish from dinner and wine, and I couldn’t hear myself.  I should be washing my hair to save time tomorrow morning, but I think I can’t do that either.  Maybe just a bath; maybe a bath would help.

I read S. King, horror stories.  It’s a good book I picked up at the airport on the way out to Texas.  I haven’t read him in years.  Engrossing, but again, escape.

I think I’m worried about getting the stove in.  I thought that, since Karl was taking a couple of days off this week, he might be focusing on that, but it’s the cars.  He has to fix a lot of things on his cars, and on mine too for that matter.  The dining room floor won’t be sanded lickety-split.  I want to get this damn stove in.  I was going to take the molding off tonight but since the sanding wasn’t imminent I said okay, I’ll practice instead, because I have to be ready for Friday’s rehearsal.  I practiced all of fifteen minutes, and that reluctantly.  What’s wrong with me tonight?

I don’t know; some nights are like this.

Today at work, Tara was agonizing over how to arrange the tables at the staff Christmas party so she would only sit with the people she likes.  She doesn’t want to sit with Dale the geek; his wife is weird, has Tourettes and is afraid of everything.  Neither does she want to sit with Eddie and his wife.  She alluded to some incident that happened with Eddie when she first started working there, which she has never gotten over.  She didn’t give specifics.  But Eddie is the one who hates his job, hates his life, eats lots of processed foods, feels stifled in every way and sometimes doesn’t have gas money to get to work.  He’s the only jobholder because getting a job makes his wife “anxious.”  She stays home and plays video games all day.  He complains about it but takes no responsibility for enabling her.  The status quo remains.

Anyway “something” happened with Eddie – he probably blew up at her – early on and she tries not to have much to do with him.  And she doesn’t want to sit at the same table with him at the Christmas party.

Today he was in the back, in the shipping/stock area, and things were going wrong with his day and he was swearing and ranting back there, and I don’t know if there was anyone with him.

In Tara’s ideal world, the table would include herself, a date, myself and a date, Karl and Rose, and another female coworker with boyfriend.  “I want to sit with people with personality,” she explained.  She worries about finding a date, too.  We hear about Tara’s dates.  They’re usually too forward, and she ultimately tells them to hit the road.  Or they don’t call.  Tara herself is convinced that men are mean.  She is morbidly obese; maybe her girth serves as some protection.

I found her diatribe about the tables funny at the time – she always makes me laugh – but I also realize there are a lot of social politics going on in this little company, the like of which I have managed to avoid most of my adult life by just being in a band, or working in the theatre (where the social politics change every five weeks).  This year, anyway, I’m finding it interesting.  No one is bugging me so much that I’d hate sitting next to them, although I would prefer to sit with those I know better.  Or maybe it’s just the Prednisone, making me feel open-hearted and gregarious.  And maybe it’s the tapering off that’s making me feel a little more fragile tonight.  At least my fingers are, for the moment, unswollen and un-itchy.  I’ll take that blessing whenever I can get it.

I took the nail patches off my right hand to air the nails out and redo them for the coming weekend, and am quite fixated on biting them.  Not biting them off, just biting them – getting my teeth around them, making sure they’re smooth, clean, whatever.  Checking them out the way a bird checks out everything with its beak.  Can you say oral fixation?  Thinking about that reminds me that I haven’t kissed anyone in over two years.  Not since the rash-but-premeditated, one-afternoon-stand with singersongwriter guy I finally decided to have sex with after so many years.  Way after he’d given up on getting me.  I plucked him out of a festival and took him home for an hour.  It was sweet and empowering; I had no expectations and needed nothing, just to do it.  Since then I’ve had no interest in pursuing anyone or being pursued.

Sometimes I wish there were someone to flirt with at least, to make life interesting in that way.  But there isn’t, and my life is full and fecund and amazing even without that.  I wonder if that’s all over with.  It’s hard to imagine Dar and me getting romantic, deeply though I love him.  Maybe it doesn’t matter.  Maybe it matters sometimes and then, sometimes, not.

Pearl reported today that one of the hens had laid an egg without a shell.  It was just presented in the membrane that comes inside the shell.  Sometimes that happens with new layers, so I guess they have another one in the ranks.  Karl estimates that when they’re all laying their average, there will be some 56 eggs per week in the coop.

That’s just hard to think about!

I called Grumpy Locksmith today, who wasn’t grumpy at all, and he said he wasn’t sure he had the right blank for the keys I want.  His stock of old fashioned keys is limited.  I didn’t think to ask if it was something he could order.  Maybe tomorrow I can take the bathroom key, which is similar, and show it to him.

So I just about have time to take a nice bath before bed, and I think I’ll do that.  So much sadness around, eh?  So much misery and bitterness, and though I think I skirt a lot of that now (often by taking responsibility for how much of it I create), I do sometimes touch down to where things are a little tender.  That’s where I am tonight, a smidge lonely and wishing there were a panacea for such evenings.  A bath, then.