January 8, 2017

It was 43 degrees and blowing 20mph this morning when I walked the dogs. Needless to say, I didn't walk them a mile. Sherri stopped by in the latter part of the morning. She was dressed for winter. I teased her about it. We agreed to go for a walk at two, but it took me longer to do my laundry than I thought it would because there was competition for the machines. Typically, I leave the laundry room while my things are washing and drying, but I had to stay today or risk having my wet clothes removed the minute the wash cycle was finished. If four machines had been available when I walked in, I would have been finished in 90 minutes.

​The thing about hanging out in a laundry room is that conversations happen. They start with questions like where are you from, how long are you here, have you been here before, etc.? A woman today tried to brain-storm job opportunities for me. It was sweet.

I stopped by Sherri's RV while walking the dogs between laundry cycles and asked if she minded waiting until four to walk. She didn't. I finished the laundry, ate lunch, ironed, and watched "The Bourne Supremacy" for the umpteenth time. She knocked on my door at three-fifty and off we went.

"Sully" is playing tonight in the River Club at seven. I'm not going. One, it's too early; two, I can't sit still for two hours; and, three, it's a 10-minute story. I told Sherri this afternoon that I'd never go to a park dinner because they are always at five. I don't eat dinner at five. No one should. I'm not sure whether I'll go to line dancing this week. I'll be running errands all day in BOB on Tuesday so I may not feel like doing something else. Also, in all practicality, I'm never going to line dance outside of these classes: I can't imagine having to attend another wedding, and sadly no one dances at funerals.

Once again, I have eaten 12 ounces of roasted, salted, shelled pistachios in three days – an extra 600 calories/day that I don't need. Just say no. Just say no. Just say no. Yeah, that never worked, did it Nancy?

I spend five to six days a week looking for work. I do major domestic duties mostly on the weekends, but I am always doing a little cleaning here and there during the week. The dogs shed hair, bring in sand, etc. (Fortunately, I never lose any hair, so I don't add to the detritus.) The shower has soap scum one day after I clean it, but I only notice it if I open the shower door while wearing my glasses. That only happens when I'm sitting on the toilet: I can clean the whole the bathroom while sitting on the toilet – except the toilet, that is. I clean the toilet every day because it's a plate, not a bowl, and it is the definition of "low flush."

Because I don't "work," because I am "home," because I am "OCD-ish," I am constantly busy from eight to five: there are no boundaries which define my life, so that also means I don't really "play" or have a sense of "leisure" because there is always something to do. I had to stop myself from addressing postcards today. Ironically, this current period of unemployment and feeling of constant work contributes to a feeling of having no play time. I thought going out to lunch yesterday would cure it, but it didn't. I guess going to lunch doesn't equal play. Play is play. Play is also bacon and Prosecco. Last Sunday felt more like play.