Sunday, July 26, 1998

        Sunday evening, 6:30. Quiet. Sitting in front of the open window, listening to the sounds of distant traffic. Bob's out to dinner with some friends and I'm thinking about tomorrow, about what I need to do tonight to get ready. Finish the laundry, iron something to wear, iron a shirt for Bob so I don't have to do it in the morning. My mom called a little while ago to wish me luck and asked if it felt like the first day of school. I told her it did, a little.

        Yesterday when I was at Nordstrom with Micki I saw a handbag that I thought had possibilities. It was a leather organizer bag, larger than the one I have now. The one I have is almost perfect; it would be perfect if it just had a little more room. I'd love to be able to stick my sunglasses in it; actually, I'd love to be able to get my keys in it. That's sort of a downside, but I usually wear things with pockets, so it's not a big deal.

        But this one looked like it might work. Lots of credit card slots, some zippered compartments, and a large pocket on the back that snapped shut, and that was big enough for (we tried it) Micki's hard-sided glasses case.

        It was ridiculously expensive, though, so I didn't buy it, thinking that I would think about it for awhile. Last night I decided I'd go back and get it today. I went back this afternoon and looked at it, thought about it for a few minutes, and bought it. I came home and took everything out of my other purse and put everything into the new one, but I just didn't like it. It was too stiff, too rigid. It was almost impossible to get down into the pockets and get anything out. So I took everything out again, and put everything back into the old purse, with the bonus of having thrown out a few things that I didn't need, thereby cleaning out the old one in the process. I'll take the other one back to Nordstrom this week some evening. I'm glad I tried it, though, because I would probably have always wondered if it was the one perfect one.

        So. I've cleaned out my purse, I've done laundry, I've ironed Bob's shirts and my jumper, collected the trash, unloaded and loaded the dishwasher (and broke another glass in the process), polished my toenails (blue, again), paid bills and walked down to the mailbox to mail them, collected the trash . . . There's one load of laundry still in the drier, and then I can go to bed. Oh, and take out the trash and walk down to the mailbox again to mail something that I forgot the first time.

        Doesn't Bob look nutty in that picture? Actually, he was singing to Pyewacket, rocking her in his arms and singing "Rockabye Baby." I know the daily pictures are supposed to be of me, but it's so much harder to take pictures now that the QuickCam isn't working that sometimes I just don't feel like going to all the trouble. I thought about taking another picture of my toes, making it a Sunday tradition, but I decided that probably wouldn't be terribly exciting. And Bob always says that he thinks the entries are more interesting when he's in them.