(Which those of a certain age may remember as the slogan from a laxative commercial of days gone by. It's my credo.)In other words, back to normal, which for me is bitching about things not yet delivered (but I finally got my two-cent stamps), complaining about my health or lack thereof, and avoidance of social situations.
Having succesfully avoided Wednesday's elegant buffet, we are allegedly going out for dinner with two other couple tomorrow night, which happens roughly with the frequency of the birth of a messiah. These are friends of the Hubs, which is no doubt why he's willing to go. And I like the people and am not particularly socially anxious here. But I'm a little pissed that one of the couples has picked the place, which is two minutes from where they live and about an hour away from here, and that the restaurant serves only huge quantity, expensive portions of ultra-rich food. (I looked at their menu online.) Dieting aside, that crap will just make me sick. And I have no idea what Vegan Boy will eat.
In other news, I need to see if I can pick up another bookcase for the family room tomorrow. I know I can buy it, I just don't know if it will fit in my tiny car to bring it home. I'd rather not give up a day next week, especially a Saturday, to be home for a five-minute delivery.
My principal, Mr. Nice Guy, came around today with a woman representing a moving company; I showed her all around the library so she can work up an estimate. Unfortunately, it was during my lunch period, but, whatever. Hey, they're making an effort. It's becoming real, folks. I don't know how many people in the last few days have asked how I feel about leaving the old library, if I'm sad about leaving it, and so on, and I've told them that I've been there, more or less, since my first day of school in September, 1968. I could make the story more maudlin and tell everyone that I met my husband there *sob sob* but I actually met him in room C101, downstairs and around the corner, and I didn't cry when that room was gutted and remodeled last summer. Not that I've been in C101 for maybe twenty years. Okay, now I'm not even making any sense.
My health, or lack thereof, is building up to Doctor Day, which happens next Wednesday; I somehow made an appointment for a checkup with the lady doctor on the morning of the day I'm having my annual physical. I can't even keep track any more of all the things I want to ask them both about. ("Doctor, it hurts when I do that!" "Don't do that.")
In other news, I talked to K last night after she'd been to each of her classes once, and she said that she's already overwhelmed with work. One of these days, Alice. It's just her way, and I know that, but I'm already having visions of her teaching for the next thirty years and telling me every damn day that she's got so much work! She'll never get it all done! Which may or may not be true, but if you don't learn to deal with it, you'll just burn yourself out in a minute and half. She's taking one graduate class, oh, the pressure! There's so much work! She's taking one freshman elective, oh, the pressure of being one of only three seniors in a freshman class! The professor expects her to know everything! Yoga! When will she find the time to change before class? Hey, isn't yoga supposed to be relaxing?
Well, I'm going to go call the Sibs now, so she can tell me that she's tired and can't talk. It's a daily ritual. But at least she answers the phone when I call, so that's something.
