Saturday, April 17

Finishing jars of jellies and jams. Rose petal and quince, beach plum. Ginger, gooseberry, apricot and orange still too full to consider. Wash the linens and pack them away, tablecloths embroidered with the initials of Faulkners long gone.

Talked to the man who will sell me insurance for our house. Seems he used to own it. Talked about used books and NPR, book dealers selling online. He reads science fiction and orders British authors from a man in Canada before they are published here. He is happy we don't have a dog or a trampoline.

Work today, new catalog out. Body feels wrecked, back and hips. I swear I will be in better shape before I do this again. This winter's stress and sorrow must have taken its toll. Strengthen and stretch to baseball, music and reading. Must not sway my back.

No comments: