My new doctor got sick so my appointment was postponed. This afforded me the opportunity to figure out how to do laundry, which involved adding funds to my wash card and other technical challenges. The rest was just schlepping. Being a washerwoman is hot work. I'd rather be poked with needles.
Today I'm making curried lamb meatballs for Mecca and Peter who made me so many yummy lamb dishes when I was visiting them in France this summer. I look forward to an afternoon of cooking and cleaning. Mainly, I want to attack the walk-in closet before it attacks me.
My dog Turbo has gone back to his old naughty self, dining from the bathroom garbage pail and re-visiting other gross habits. I take this as a good sign because he hasn't done these things since his soulmate Asta died last summer.
It is a gorgeous late summer day in Nueva York. All I can see from my window is more buildings. As my apartment is right next to Ground Zero, there's a lot of construction out there but I hear very little of it from my 8th floor aerie. A cool breeze wafts in, no doubt laced with asbestos and other carcinogens.
Somethings gotta kill you.