I painted. And lucky you, the batteries were dead in the camera. But I cogitated a bit beforehand—couple of hours—and I couldn't justify spending cash on new carpeting to make the ugly "teal" (read "toothpaste") wall work.

And I had these unopened two gallons of Benjamin Moore paint sitting there from when I bought them two years ago to paint my room like the Potala (remember?) only I lost the farm and so I didn't get to. And one is metallic gold—for the back wall of the store, I was thinking—and the other is called "merlot," but when I popped it open it more resembled a dark terra cotta. About 11 a.m. I threw caution to the wind and painted the west wall that vibrant darkrustred color. And dammit I'm not sorry. It looks great! There's enough left to paint over the toothpastegreen wall (we learn: high-quality paint actually covers a wall, as opposed to the watered-down stuff you get at the hardware store), but I need to consult with a friend before I take things any further. ("Look at the green wall. Now look at the red one and vote.")

The professional window-letterer (my accountant's wife, as it turns out; small towns...) will meet with me at the shop tomorrow at 10 a.m. to make an estimate. She'll have an opinion about the paint, I'll bet.

I ate my lunchtime (cold) soup and cottage cheese. I cut away the weeds coming up through cracks in the sidewalk in front. I went through all the boxes of books I got from over the hill last week. I won't be able to use very many, it turns out. There are far too many library discards. Far too many with brittle aging pages. Far too many just plain clinkers. Ah well. Some things just weren't meant to be. We'll tough it out. Build our own stock over time. It will be all right.

Brian seemed a little hesitant about joining the gang at the activity center this morning. I was really hesitant. But he was in one piece when I went to fetch him at 2:30, and although he isn't terrifically excited about it, he says he wants to go back tomorrow. As long as he keeps saying that, we'll do it. I have to admit, though, that it really is just a day care center, no matter what they call it. But sometimes we need to make use of such places in order to do what needs to be done. I tell myself.

And everyone was healthy and happy to see us when we got home. Well, Gunter wasn't too happy. That's the awkward part: at the time we have to leave in the morning it's still dark and 30 degrees. But I can't leave his heaters on, because once the sun hits the greenhouse glass it gets very hot in there. And then today, we had fog until midafternoon. The sun didn't hit the glass all morning, and then bam, there it was. I couldn't open up the doors on the greenhouse before leaving, it was just too cold. So I turned off one heater and took the door away from his enclosure where he was still passed out and turned down the thermostat on the oil radiator in there and hoped for the best. The fog had only just burned away when we arrived home this afternoon. But Gunter was unhappy. He must have stayed chilly most of the day. I gave him some Romaine leaves and an apple, and later some thistle leaves, and he seemed to perk up a little. His people will come for him in nine days. We just have to make it through this cold snap.