Today must have been Friday the Thirteenth and I was the only one who didn't know. I drove 20 miles for a medical appointment, but the doctor had called in sick and the receptionist couldn't reach me. I tried to pick up medications, but one was out of stock and the others weren't ready. I asked about my oncology appointment but the printout I had didn't match the computer and the doctor will be on vacation at that time anyway. On the way home I wanted to stop at the car wash, but it was closed. The five hens only laid one egg. Youngest Daughter came home sick. And so it went, an endless number of trivial little annoyances, the sort of stuff that sets off my short fuse. (I do better on the big issues, like death and dying.)
I did better on food. Steve and I went to the Friday Market and bought freshly picked cherries and peaches. I chatted with a 4H teen who was selling her animal photography on cards (I chose one so I can write to Youngest Grandson). And this evening Steve made the best,
the very best, catfish and hush puppies to go with my salad. I should just stick to food.
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