1. Toothpicks (suitable for propping eyelids open)
3. More coffee
My triumph over 800 pages was short lived: Another 700 appeared in my inbox today. I have three days to read and comment.
“Mom, we’re out of milk.”
“Are you sure? I just bought a gallon yesterday.”
“Yeah. I think I drank it.”
Hmm. 12-year-old boys.
5. Bleach. Or possibly white spray paint.
Sliding on a baseball diamond into a mud puddle+brand new white uniform pants+4 trips through the washing machine = not white but taupe.
6. Books and more books.
We have an upcoming vacation that will involve, in part, sitting in a cabin in the woods. I want to be prepared. Do you have anything to recommend?
Also tomorrow may be my birthday. I don’t think I’m in denial, but neither am I paying much attention. I used to think that it would be impossible to forget your own birthday or that if it happened it would be a bad thing. But really it’s that everything else is equally interesting and distracting. So really, I think, that is better. Still, 700 pages. 3 days. That’s approximately 34 pages an hour. I think I can. I think I can.
My friend H. is coming to visit from Chicago on Friday. There will, I think, need to be wine.
What’s on your shopping list?