Lunch with my friends today.

Heidi Dru Kortman's blog
We reserved a table today, and had it set for five. My friend Linda Kaye has come back from her Hawaiian cruise, and she gave us glimpses of her pleasures there. My little red umbrella has gone somewhere I haven't. She brought back some of the scents of the islands, and generously gave us bottles of lotions. My choice was the White Ginger, wonderfully spicy.

Marilyn slipped me a book of short stories by Irish women. I'm having a hard time leaving it untouched. Of course, I'm blogging instead of doing any of the work I could or ought to do.

I may move as early as 12 days from now. Right now, my flat is in that mind-twisting state I loathe. I've got packed boxes stacked on my desk, partially packed ones on the floor, and more to do, but no boxes to do it with. At least this time, I don't need to decide what things to leave behind. All of it goes with me.

(I asked the head chef if the kitchen staff could save me some boxes, and he will arrange it, but he also said he was going to nail my shoes to the floor so I couldn't leave.) It makes me cry.

So now that my place looks like a refugee's den, the management has brought up two prospective residents to see the place.

The rose pictures are still stacked on the floor where my brother put them; they never were hung. I've packed the Irish crystal and red glassware from my windowsill, and the coffee mugs and most of the other breakables. All the red and green suncatchers came out of the windows after dark, because I couldn't bear to do it in daylight. I had to mend one, and I consider it good practice with superglue. Another one may need to be reassembled by a professional, since the leading has cracked.

All my stuff surrounds me, but it feels like nobody lives here.