boxofdelights

I've been stalling this for a couple years now, but I finally decided to go ahead with it. Radical hysterectomy, which means everything must go. With an abdominal incision, though I don't know whether that will be vertical or horizontal.

I'm afraid of brain damage from the general anesthesia, and I'm afraid of catching Covid in the hospital.

I should be fully recovered before gardening begins in earnest. It would have been better to do this in the interval between losing my high-maintenance very old dog and acquiring my high-maintenance, anxious, strong, energetic, mannerless young dog. My husband will be staying with me for a couple weeks, as long as I need, and doing all the chores, but Matilda is A Lot.

My kid (who is, just to be clear, a full-grown person) spilled a bottle of toasted sesame oil in my fridge. I don't understand how they did it, or why they left it for me to discover and clean up, but now every time I walk into the kitchen my nose goes "Mmm... dinner?"

This must be how dogs feel all the time.

( new glasses )

I'm doing all the medical stuff that has been on hold since lockdown. All of the real doctors' offices still require masks, but the eye doctor doesn't. Everyone politely offers to put on a mask if it would make me more comfortable, and they do put on masks at the parts of the process when I have to take mine off, but that is just security theater in a building full of people, with windows that don't open and one of those airlock-type foyers that keeps your air conditioning inside. And the fact that they dropped their mask mandate as soon as it was allowed makes me doubt that they spent any resources on improving their HVAC throughput or filters.

But the doctor did try to sell me a $65 bottle of zinc-vitamin C-lysine to clear up my eye floaters!

I've been grumpy about Tawanda book group lately anyway, over a lot of little annoyances--like, one of the people who never remembers to mute her Zoom is a noisy enough eater that the Speaker View is constantly switching to her face, chewing.

And we used to have an agreement not to pick books before they came out in paperback, especially not if they had a long waitlist at the library. But people have made so many exceptions for the book they really wanted to read this month that the agreement doesn't really exist anymore, and this month we are reading Wish You Were Here, by Jodi Picoult.

I put my name on the waiting list as soon as Sarah announced her pick, but it was >100 holds on 13 copies, so I was sure I wasn't going to get it. But the library has a Here & Now collection of popular new books: you can't put them on hold; if they are on the shelf when you walk into the library, you can have them for a week. So I got a copy, a few days before book group.

We have been meeting in person occasionally, when the weather is good enough for us to eat outside. Sarah decided that we would meet at the pie shop. Which would be fine, but she said, "either in their separate smaller room on the side or outside if the weather is nice." I do not want to eat in a group in their separate smaller room.

Stupidly, I did not say that. I said that I was still stuck in this boot, so I couldn't drive. Karen offered to pick me up. Karen is never careless about masking, and always wants the windows open, so I accepted her offer. I'm going to ask her to back me up about not eating inside.

So I am reading the book. It's about Covid! I do not want to read fiction about Covid! It was hard enough reading The Pull of the Stars, but that was worth it, because Emma Donoghue is brilliant. Jodi Picoult is no Emma Donoghue.

One of our horses died this spring. The other one, her son, is living alone for the first time in his life. Horses are happier with a companion, so Neal advertised for a horse boarder, and found some nice people who are saving up to buy a house and expect to need to board their horse for three years or so. They don't have a trailer, so Neal said they could use his, except that we didn't take the horses anywhere for years and let the registration lapse. The boarders offered to pay to renew it.

So, Neal went to the DMV today to renew the horse-trailer registration, which will be $65. Except that there is a new policy that if you have let your registration lapse, you will be fined $25 per month, up to four months. So if Neal registers the trailer, it will be $165.

Neal asked if he could sell the trailer to his wife and avoid the fine. Yes, said the DMV employee. You'll have to pay sales tax and you'll get a new plate. That is stupid, said Neal. I know, said the DMV employee.

So he got the title out of the safe deposit box and signed it over to me for the price of $1, and tomorrow I have to go to the DMV and register the sale and get a new plate. Hope this works.

Crossposts: http://boxofdelights.livejournal.com/247075.html

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I do not want to be reading this book.

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