My sleep was disturbed by troubling dreams. I don't even know what the dreams were, but I know they left me feeling lousy. I woke up at 6:30 but decided to go back to bed after a short trip to the bathroom. I woke up shortly before 9. I fed Elsa before I went for our walk.
Because it was so late in the day, I wore a tank top instead of a T-shirt with a sweatshirt. It wasn't too hot because of the cloud cover, but I wasn't uncomfortable with my light dress.
I got an email from Dorothy this morning saying her COVID test came back negative. I called her while I walked with Elsa, sticking to my first alternate route. We talked for most of the walk. I was at my driveway when she said she had to get off. I continued down the block and back again to make my 5,000 steps.
She had mixed feelings about the negative results. She was hoping she had a mild case and now had immunity—no such luck. We talked about how we are feeling about our confinement. It is getting on my nerves. I'm feeling helpless. I think of food I might want and know I am dependent on others to get these items. I can't wander the food aisles of a market, seeing what appeals to me. When I think of something I might want, like the vegetables I needed yesterday, only one or two items come to mind, hardly a major shopping trip. Before the confinement, I could stop at a market after Bikram or after I finished at the school, scoot down to town, and pick an item up. Not now. I have to plan. I have to think of how much to ask for, or I'll have too much food, and it will spoil. It's depressing.
Dorothy lives close to a farm in Lawrenceville with whom she placed a pickup order. She was going to pick it up but had her son do it because she was ill. Now, she has this quantity of food she has to cook and eat before it goes bad.
I ran into a few people on my walk this morning. A woman was coming toward me with something extra by her side. A dog? She was at a distance, and my eyes are no longer good enough to make things out. I keep an eye out for walkers with dogs because Elsa becomes a crazy lady when we pass other animals. There are those dogs that walk past us quietly at their owner's side. Not so, Elsa. In a few more years, she will be able to pull me over. No, she will not get bigger and stronger; it is me that will get smaller and weaker.
As that woman got closer, I could see she was pulling a little red wagon with a young child, an amazingly blonde little girl about two years old, if not younger. I told the woman who I had had difficulty making out what was by her side. She said it was her 'pet baby.' Love it!
As I came to an intersection, I saw a police car pulling up and a large grate standing up on end. We don't have a sewer system here. Each property has either a cesspool or septic system. To deal with water runoff from downpours, we have water wells. They are just cement boxes dropped into the ground. Digging a complete sewer system into solid rock would cost a fortune. As I think about it, that's what they did in Manhattan, which, as I understand it, is solid rock.
Some kids had turned the protective grate on one of those wells on its side, leaving a large open well exposed. The policeman went to move the grill back into place. It was clear it was too heavy for him. I started to offer to help but remember that I'm almost 80 and warned not to strain myself physically for fear of damaging my pucker macular further. I suggested that it was the work of some kids. There was a beer bottle lying next to the well. The policeman said there were more in the well.
The policemen said he would wrap the grate in caution tape and call the town maintenance department to deal with the problem.
When I got home, I washed last night's dishes. To keep the kitchen floor from getting completely out of hand, I have decided to wet mop the floor daily until I get the vacuum fixed or replaced. Because the Rainbow acts as a wet-dry vac, most of the dirty water gets sucked up, or at least a great deal more than would if you just got the water up with a mop. This leaves the floor much cleaner than regular mopping.
I have little to complain about. Most of yesterday's problems have been resolved. My friend and I are reconciled, Dorothy doesn't have COVID, my tongue has healed, and B. delivered frozen broccoli to my door. The only remaining problem is my beloved vacuum cleaner. For some reason, the loss of the vacuum is more challenging than the much more serious losses of my husband and the simultaneous threats of losing my sister to Covid and my friend to irreconcilable difference.
As I write this, I am having difficulty seeing what I am typing. Besides the natural age-related decline in my vision, I have age-related drooping eyelids. I was supposed to have an appointment with a Kaiser ophthalmologist to be evaluated for this problem. I had to cancel the appointment because of the shutdown. When I do get this surgery, I am told it will take ten years off my age. It is a cosmetic surgery covered by insurance. Not a bad deal. I think I will be more excited by my improved vision. I have never been overly involved in my appearance. Even less now. I just try to maintain myself so people don't run in the other direction or call the police. That's good enough.
I called my friend Jean, who is dealing with breast cancer. Boy, she got screwed by one of her doctors. If the doctor had dealt with her situation correctly, she would have been on chemo three months ago and only had surgery afterward. The doctor told her she only had a small tumor. When her oncologist looked at the same report, she saw a sizeable tumor. The oncologist is confident that she will live. But because of the mismanagement, she faces a year of difficult treatments she might not have needed.
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