The grocery store said they'd have a new supply of blueberries today. I love blueberries. I drove to the store to pick them up and no blueberries. The landscaper said he'd be over to look at the lawn yesterday evening. I haven't seen him yet. The roofer said he'd drop by "soon." I've learned that soon can mean anywhere from a day to a year. Why do people even bother to tell me things if they don't mean it?
People probably wonder why I bother to tell them things too. I have to bite my tongue when the auction house folks ask me questions about the art I'm trying to consign. Every time they ask me something, I want to launch into a long winded story about how I acquired the art and what was going through my mind at the time. In many ways, the stories are more important than the art itself. When I was young, I used to joke with people that my goal when I retired was to have a little museum full of my stuff at the end of a long country road. Only a few people a day would ever find this place and I would spend my time showing them all the odd and interesting things I had stumbled across in my life. When the world became a less friendly place, I stopped having fantasies about this mythical sealander museum. Now, I'm starting to question the validity of the stuff itself.
I received several e-mails saying that NetworkedBlogs was going to shut down on June 6. It's still here. I wonder what that's all about? I managed to find an alternate syndication service, so now the blog syndicates to social media twice each evening. As you might expect from someone with OCD, the duplication bothers me. I watch for the posts to appear each evening and manually delete one of them. I think NetworkedBlogs has become a ghost site. A lot of defunct websites stay in operation long after they are officially dead.
I had to mail some documents today and was frustrated that I couldn't get the pre-addressed return envelope to seal. I kept licking the flap, but it wouldn't stick. I finally gave up and sealed the envelope with Scotch Tape. Later, Janet told me that this was a self sealing envelope and that I'd forgotten to peel the paper strip off the adhesive. That felt dumb. I'm really getting old when I try to lick a self stick envelope over and over again.
I'll probably do something equally silly tomorrow. The brain starts to get rusty when there aren't deadlines to meet and competitors to vanquish. Conventional wisdom tells me that I need a hobby, but who has time for a hobby when there are flowers to photograph, blogs to write, and dogs to care for? Truthfully, just getting repair people to come over to the house is a full time job.
Lucky is today's Dalmatian of the Day |
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