Wednesday, July 8, 1998

        I was sitting here reading email this morning when Bob came down, dressed to go play golf. He called a couple of courses and got a tee time for 1:30, called his friend and let him know when he'd pick him up, then said, "Change your shirt and I'll take you to breakfast." I was wearing a t-shirt that said "Walsh's Corner Cocktail Lounge." It was one that he had discarded when he cleaned out his t-shirt drawer, and I appropriated it because it was soft and didn't have any holes. I asked him what was wrong with it, and he said it was wrinkled.

        So, since I'm trying very hard to be easier to get along with (and because it was wrinkled), I went upstairs and changed into a Piglet t-shirt, and we went out to breakfast, then we went to Galyan's, a huge upscale sporting goods store, and looked at canoes, sleeping bags and tents, and bought some golf balls. I picked up a little Coleman flashlight about two and a half inches long, and carried it around for awhile and then put it back, and I also picked up a little squeezelight with a red bulb so you don't lose your night vision when you're using the light to read your map while you're out in the wilderness, lost, at night . . .

        I love flashlights. It's just one of those things. I almost never have an opportunity or need to use one, but I always feel like I should have one with me, just in case. So I have an assortment of tiny ones, including one with a red bulb, just in case I'm ever flying a plane at night and need to read a map, but want to be able to see to fly when I'm finished.

        I also really wanted a little button that you pin on your clothing that has a retractable cord with a hook attached to the end of it. Bob said it's a fishing thing, that you attach a pair of scissors, usually, to the hook, and then you have them within each reach while you're standing in the stream and your fishing line gets tangled up. I think that women used to wear similar things in the past with their scissors attached, although not retractable. The only word I can think of for these is "langoliers," and I know that's not right because that's the name of that great Stephen King story about the people who went to sleep on the airplane . . . Maybe if they had had a flashlight with a red bulb . . .

        The rest of the day was pretty anti-climactic. Bob had finally gotten a bolt for the vacuum cleaner, so I put it back together and vacuumed the house for the first time in a couple of weeks. It really needed it, of course. I vacuumed up a lot of long red hair. I also dusted and cleaned off the counter in the kitchen. Our kitchen is open, i.e., I can stand in the kitchen and look through into the living room. There are stools on the living room side so you can sit and eat at the "breakfast bar," although we never do. That counter ends up being where I dump all the mail, my purse, and whatever else I carry in with me during the day.

        I cleaned everything up and put it away, and found a big wicker basket that I set on the counter and in which I put my wallet, checkbook, address book, sunglasses, keys, and the paperback book I'm reading.

        After I cleaned the house, I sat down at the dining room table and painted. Well, actually, first I went out and sat on the porch and sanded, then I painted. I sanded some of the paint off the edges of the little red Adirondack chair so that it looked a little bit worn, and I sanded the unfininished rocker. Then I came in and put a coat of matte varnish on the chair, and painted the rocker midnight blue. The chair looks pretty good, I think. It may need another coat of varnish; I'll decide tomorrow. I don't know what to do with the rocket, exactly. My plan was to stencil white stars on it, but that didn't work out very well. I didn't like the way it looked and I ended up cleaning off the stars and putting another coat of blue paint on the rocker seat twice.

        I guess I'll sleep on it and think about it again in the morning.