Tomorrow I start the new job. It seems unreal. I have been mostly unemployed (the consulting stuff was barely like working) for 5 long months. I hope I remember how to think.
I have a few new items in the wardrobe, got Baby's oil changed today (she needed to get psyched for her new long commute), ran various other errands, and I'm grilling a turkey burger for dinner. Laundry is done, vacuuming is not. And after dinner I must get my stuff together for tomorrow, and also give myself a pedicure. Because it's true, Florida corporate etiquette calls for painted toenails with sandals.
My mother called as I was writing this - she sounded fine. Girl dropped by on her way to work (smart Girl, it was the perfect exit strategy) and Cousin C called her, too. She fetched herself an egg salad sandwich and pie for dinner and planned to eat in front of the TV, (she has the option of take out if she doesn't want a big meal) and apparently the hideously long slog to the dining room was successfully navigated without collapsing from the effort.
Lest you think everything is fine now, Girl delivered the footrest I bought yesterday - a little round thing from Tar-jay - because her feet really are swollen and she should elevate them and she wouldn't let me buy her that fabulous recliner because she is afraid of them. The footrest is "so heavy." Because there always must be something to bitch about. Whatever.
After her visit Girl called to report that "Your mother is so crazy." I responded, "Tell me something I don't know." Apparently my mother was analyzing the pamphlets that came with her meds, to identify those causing her swollen feet. The nurse isn't concerned, she's seeing the doctor on Wednesday, but her life isn't complete unless there is something to worry about.
My response, "Oh, it's good that she has a hobby."
Off to paint my nails and finish the latest linen wrap, after the nails dry, of course.