A Day For Myself

Call me selfish. I don't care. I really needed a day here alone. I didn't have to go anywhere, do anything, see anyone. It was ALL ABOUT ME today. And it was faaaaaan-tastic! I did what I wanted to do.

Slept til 9:00. Didn't shave or shower this morning. So what? It was my day. My home. My Life. I finished putting plastic film on my windows this morning to keep out the cold draughts. I put some classic country music on the stereo and sang with the twang while I did my thang. I dusted and tidied this little office.

I installed an external hard drive this afternoon and then fiddled for hours with the computer. I've got an extra eighty gigabytes of storage space now, Ms J. I copied all my music and photos to the new drive. I did it by myself. No nerd required, thank you. I enjoyed mucking about.

I drank a whole bottle of wine. All by myself. Just finished it, actually.

I made lasagne today. I think I'll take it over to Bob and his poor ol' mum. Olga's got the big "C". But I told you that already, didn't I? She's a rather private person. Bob says she doesn't want people to know she's ill. Olga's a beautiful spirit, but I can't understand for the Life of me (or her) why she'd purposely deny herself the support of friends and neighbours during this time. If it were me, I'd tell everyone.

Remember when I broke my leg, Ms J? I told as many people as I could. Not because I wanted pity or sympathy. Well, OK, maybe I did a little. That's the Truth. But mostly I knew I'd be glad of a bit of help. It's not easy to ask for help, but sometimes it seems there's no choice. Out of the boat. Into the storm. I'll remember Olga (and Bob) in my prayers tonight.

Alex's fundraiser seems to be gaining momentum. After a horribly shaky start, the play is starting to look better. Good, even. I decided today what I'd wear for costumes and laid my clothes out ready to take to the church. Tomorrow's our last rehearsal. A dress rehearsal. The show goes up on Saturday evening. 7:30. Give or take.

G.A. had a band lined up to play. Friends of hers from high school. Yesterday, they called her and cancelled. But today, my friend Cy called to tell me he'd be able to sing and play at Alex's event. Cy just lives up the street from the church.

"Yeah," he said, "we can do the songs we've practiced already. You know, the ones we're doing for the coffee house on the 26th."

Cyril and I have rehearsed about four songs which we plan to sing at the coffee house open mike night at the church on November 26th. I am a singer, Ms J. I sing. But to be clear, I do not sing well. I sing in the car. And in the shower sometimes. But I have never been told I have any talent for singing. I don't care. I like to sing. And so I'll be singing and acting at Alex's fundraiser. I'll be acting as though I can sing. I hope the audience enjoys it. Too bad if they don't. No refunds.

The bathtub is full of steaming water and bubbles. Scented candles cast wobbly shadows on the tiled walls. I can hear the bubbles crackling from where I sit now.

Sigh ....

I've run out of things to tell you, Ms Journal. My head's a bit foggy. The bath water's getting cold. G' night!

Blub, blub, blub ...

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