A warm clear seven days ahead, says the Weather Service.
Absentee neighborwoman, sixtyish, arrived in the night, camped in her cold empty shack, and left in the morning, her Accura spinning and sliding and getting stuck in the snow. I went out and laid an old carpet under the wheels and she found her center and left. She's fled Los Angeles--without her wallet--and doesn't know what to do.
Too many of us crazy ladies in this boat. It may be time for a swim.
No heat required here these bright days, so maybe the wood will last after all. I placed a good third of my books, CDs, and DVDs for sale online and sold 30 items in 24 hours. And how will I package them? How will I post them? Who knew? After some housecleaning, I'll spend the day wrapping and labeling improvised packages. A woman in Germany wants to watch Valmont. Someone at a Southern elementary school is going to see Adaptation. A girl in Oregon wants The Book of Secrets. A Michigan man will hear Motor City Moments. A couple in Colorado look forward to La Dolce Vita--a picture book of Italian country houses.
Two more items sold while I typed the foregoing. How on earth will I handle this? Well, of course I can handle this. But it should be an episode of I Love Lucy.
More things going into the pickup bed today for the Friday dump run. Lamps I'll never rewire, I admit it. The cane rocker the ex-Housemate will never retrieve. Rusted map cases no one wants. I have a box of VHS tapes and another of books and a pile of CDs to take to the little library in Cedarville. I've taped up a carton of Horticulture back issues to ship to my younger son. And two things to send to my grandchildren.
The great big Downsize.
12:46:27 PM 
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