Today I got the stitches, grandly known as sutures, removed. I felt bad all this morning before the appointment, decided it was nerves, did a meditation and thought in case they asked, I'd measure my blood pressure. This was not a good idea. Sky-high.
But I decided well, go ahead anyway, and handsome Son was driving me, so I didn't have the responsibility of navigating lunchtime traffic.
It took quite a while, quite a few, not painless, the area under your eye being picky that way. But it's done. Dressed now with steri somethings, to which she said do nothing, they'll fall off in a couple of days. I'm just as glad to be done with the Telfa dressings.
Back to check in three months. I tried to leave without my glasses, noticed I couldn't see to text, retraced my steps, we found them, leaving my bag somewhere, we found it. They were probably just delighted to see me leave! Confusion reigned.
On the good side I found exactly the sweater I've been looking for for ages, in a catalog that came today. Not only that, it's in stock in the right color and size. This is like winning a minor raffle these days.
However, when you're putting out a cheery holiday catalog, here's a pro tip, marketers:
Don't insert these
But in the same mail came Christmoose greetings from my Canadian honorary granddaughter. So there's that.
In my sixties, for years I was bombarded with flyers and marketing calls with great deals on cemetery plots. After a few years, I guess they gave up on my dying on their schedule.
Then I began to get Silver Singles, river cruises in Europe, pictures of people in their thirties in silver wigs from the look of it, waterskiing, climbing mountains, chucking themselves into diving bays. Now I guess it's back to burials.
Yesterday I did drive far enough to get the ceiling light that didn't stay up returned. It was pretty cool. They'd sent me a qr code, I just had to take the light, no wrapping, very easy, to the UPS store.
They scanned the code, processed a receipt, and kept the light to pack with other returns. Sensible proceeding. And by a couple of hours later, the refund was done.
They did say darkly that if it didn't get back to them they'd recharge me. But I have my trusty receipt. And the thing that stops a lot of us from returning items, the packing and taping and form filling, isn't a thing any more, it seems. Yay.
Since handsome Son was really squeezing in the trip to the doctor for me, and had to work it out at work, needing to be a bit late, long working day for him, I thought a little something would go over nicely. Two of these in his lunch doings.
They're some Southern cookie from Elizabeth Gilbert's great grandmother. My handwriting might not be a lot of help, but the book is At Home on the Range, by Margaret Yardley Potter, originally published 1947, revised and republished recently by Elizabeth Gilbert.
The recipe's online, but so riddled with ads I couldn't get a coherent image for you. I believe it's one of those chatty books with plenty of opinions in them, which could be fun to read..
They're pretty nice if you want to pursue them. Tiny recipe just enough for about a dozen little cookies.
And now to loaf, listen to an Angela Thirkell, and avoid looking at my healing face.
Happy evening everyone. Where I am anyway!
