Tuesday, March 17, 2020

    I made it up to the third fire hydrant and somewhat beyond this morning. I ran into David. He had been following my recommendation and said his knees felt better. Then I passed Craig. I asked him how far he walked each day. He said about 4 ½, walking up to the highway, Mamaloha. The road we were on didn’t go up that high. He said he climbed over a barrier and continued up the hill in another development. 

    At home, I continued working on my taxes.  I returned the call I got from NPR. They reported that the email address I had given them didn’t work. The second time was a success.  Then I called Genworth. They sent me a check for $3,000 in April 2019 since I no longer had to pay premiums.  Yes,  I will be entitled to the long-term insurance benefits even though their insurance cannot be purchased in Hawaii.

    Since I had to give Miss Kitty the tax information today and hadn’t heard from the dentist yet, I applied some energy and intelligence. Despite my best effort, I couldn’t figure out the insurance statement for love or money. I hope  Miss Kitty can do that for me. We’ll subtract that amount from my total payments then.

    At home, I walked to the bottom of the property to check my lime tree.  When the tree man was here earlier this year, I had him trimmed that tree from which I get limes for my evening drink most of the year. I had a light trim in mind. The two stories tall tree was cut down to my shoulder height. Yikes!  I was assured it would come roaring back. Yes, the branches and leaves came back with a vengeance but not the flowers, which means no limes.  I will have to stock up on lemons from Costco and freeze the juice. I also decided I needed more Frontline for Elsa, assuming I will be locked in for an indefinite period. 

    I am so glad Mike is dead.  If he had spent a year trying to recover his life and then had to face both this health issue and the financial one, he would not have made it. 

    I stopped at Costco to see if it was worthwhile getting lemons. The parking lot was not full but pretty busy. However, I could see I wouldn’t have time to pick up something there and get to my one pm appointment with my tax consultant. I arrived a few minutes early, but she was ready to see me. 

    I love working with this lady, Kitty’s Accounting. She is thorough and quick, friendly, and thinks I’m funny.  That last trait is a winner.  I miss people who get my sense of humor. That’s one of the things I miss most about myself in the context of Mike.  While it took him time, he finally got my sense of humor.  Expressing it helps me keep my balance.  I hold on to the essential absurdity of life.  Living alone, I forget I’m funny.  I once lived with a group of people who didn’t find me funny. My humor is contextual and subtle. I can understand how people can think I’m serious when I make absurd statements with a straight face.  

    There was a period in the commune when no one living there thought I was funny. A new woman moved in.  She laughed at something I said.  I was shocked.  I actually had forgotten I meant to be funny.  I had started taking myself seriously too.

    On the way home, I stopped off at Costco again.  Kitty had told me that one of her clients told her it took her an hour and a half to even get into the store.  Given the parking lot was not full, I assumed that Costco was controlling for social distancing.  I did get some information.  They were letting in 25 people at a time.  I decided to go home and ask my yoga buddy, Lisa, who works at Costco, to pick things up for me.  She texted me that she would drop off tomorrow two bags of lemons that evening. 

    Damon called.  All I talk about with people these days is the virus and what kind of accommodations I am making, they’re making, and I should make. It’s getting old fast. 

    I walked Elsa while I talked to Damon. We couldn’t go far because it was starting to rain. Elsa and I made it home just in time before the sky opened up and dumped its load.

    I made dinner for both of us and read more of David Brook’s book The Social Animal.  I love the way this man writes.  I have heard him say he loves to write.  I can imagine. I can hear the laughter in his words.  His humor is like mine, or at least his humor appeals to mine.