Thursday, October 30, 2014
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
About a year ago I fell right on my nose in the lobby of the Kimmel Center. It hurt like hell, but. aside from two black eyes, I was essentially unharmed. I looked grotesque, though.
Last Thursday, a dog knocked me down a (short) flight of stairs. The sound of my head hitting the step was horrific. Again, no damage, unless there are bruises under my hair.
My father lived to be 99, and it took a dedicated team of doctors, at a renowned medical center, to kill him.
I am starting to feel like Rasputin; who I understand survived several attempts to kill him. And that's all I know about Russian history, and probably all I ever will know.
Posted by miriam sawyer at 7:44 PM
Friday, October 17, 2014
My broom has no home. When I want to use it I take if from wherever it is standing, usually in the way, and after using it I leave it somewhere, usually in the way. The somebody knocks it over.
Does anyone else have broom problems? I never notice other people's brooms standing around waiting for someone to knock them over. Other people have control of their brooms.
I have lost my last house key. I never use them, because I come and go through the garage, but I think one should have a house key. So I have to start thinking about a locksmith.
I let my husband's subscription to a magazine come to a close. Then I ordered a new subscription for myself. Now I either have two subscriptions or none. This requires action, but the thought of straightening it out makes me want to take a nap.
These are first world problems, right? St Teresa said, in a quote that's too good to check, that life was a night spent in an uncomfortable inn. Try to imagine a 16th century Spanish inn, where you had to share your bed with other travelers, some of whom probably smelled bad. Now call a locksmith.
Posted by miriam sawyer at 3:20 PM