I have a white terrycloth man’s bathroom I use. It has a blue legend on the back that says “I’m Preferred” that was a premium offered by the bank that Jay and I used in New York. Don’t ask me why the bank thought we should have it, since we weren’t investors. It is a bit worse for wear, with some holes here and there, and strings hanging and I can’t give it up because Jay wore it. Maybe I’ll pull myself together and mend it. I hate to sew. There are 13,014 other things I would rather do. Yes, I counted.

I have had two sessions with Beverly, the acupuncturist, and I am now sleeping through the night, which is a big thing. She also said magnesium is great for regularity so I am taking it and she is right. The cost is $60 per session which isn’t a lot considering what massage costs, but it mounts up and I checked with my Medicare Advantage plan and they don’t cover it. However I had a lovely conversation with Marian, the 20-something person working their phones from Green Bay, Wisconsin (I asked) and she thought I was amazing. I have a third session with Beverly next week, and after that will go once a month.

During the conversation with Marian, I said the acupuncture was really helping and she said she was afraid of needles, but confided that she had a tattoo and had other piercings. So I told her she wasn’t making sense, and she saw my point.

While Ed was away all week at a Guardian meeting in Jacksonville, Naomi, his social worker colleague, phoned and we went to a movie, The Big Sick, which was labeled a comedy. It is a true story and the lead is the actual person this happened to, a Pakistani immigrant named Kamail Nanjani, and the comedy is very gentle. I didn’t have any cash so Naomi paid for the movie and I bought dinner for us afterwards at a newly-opened Mexican restaurant in our Publix mall. I had a margerita because I wasn’t driving, and tacos. Naomi had a margarita too but is bigger than I am so maybe the liquor doesn’t go straight to her brain.

The interesting thing about margeritas is that I can tolerate them and learned, one soggy night in NY at Trader Vic’s (located then in the Plaza basement) hanging out with the Plaza bellmen and the air lines desk clerk, that it was easy to lose track of time when you aren’t getting sick. We started at 5 and when I checked the time again, it was 11 p.m. So now I understand how people can black out. That was when I worked for a management consultant and his offices were in the narrow 6-storey building next door, owned by the hotel, sharing a basement, and getting all hotel services. It was nice for a while to be intimate with the Plaza. At odd hours, I’d go looking for an empty ballroom and play the grand piano.

I spent the non-flake-out part of the week cleaning out sections of the garage, and getting rid of some corners of chaos in the house. It was very hard work, I was drenched working in the garage because it has no air. Although I performed minor miracles, the garage is still a third world country. I will continue with the clean-up as time wears on. It has to be me. Ed complains about the chaos but is unqualified to separate and sort and dispose of and estimate and judge STUFF. I filled a huge garbage bin with trash. I am hiding it till tomorrow which is trash day in case Ed decides he wants to reclaim stuff, like rusted parts of old appliances long since disposed of.

xx, Teal