December 9, 2016

I arrived at my new RV park in Naples at three-thirty: I walked the dogs, washed BOB, set up the electric, water and sewer lines, and set up the chairs, tables and drying rack. I cleaned the cabin floor. I walked about 750 feet to the laundromat. I forgot the bleach, so I walked back with a third load. The machines don't take quarters so I walked back, finished setting up the inside of BOB, took a shower and walked back to the laundromat with a credit card. It took me 10 minutes to figure out how to buy a laundry card and load it. I didn't realize that the five dollars I was initially charged was just the card acquisition cost. What a fucking expensive pain in the ass.

​The people with whom I last worked are having Christmas dinner together tonight at the same inn where we always had it. I used to organize a Yankee Swap and a trivia game of sorts. They wanted to FaceTime me, but I was so cranky about the laundry that I couldn't bear to make myself presentable. I had planned to wear the green wig Meredith gave me in the spirit of the holiday, but given my mood, I texted one of my former bosses and asked that they just call instead. I chatted with everyone, caught up on their news, and we said our good-byes. Within a minute, the phone rang again: it was our perennial waiter Justin. He was always very good with our parties – attentive but not interfering. One year, I gifted him my Yankee Swap present to him: it was a tee shirt which said, "Tell Your Boobs to Stop Staring at My Eyes." It was sweet that he wanted to talk to me, too.