jaeleslie

Another day consumed by the minutia of life. Nothing grand accomplished. Nothing even complete. I wrote a couple of things in my studio notebook, one rather badly, with colored ink, which is notoriously poor as a broadedge writing fluid. I am a professional, do not try this at home.

Dropped off a trunkful of clothing at Goodwill, and have dredged three, make that four boxes of quart canning jars out of storage, which are now being claimed by two different parties on the CSA discussion list.

Today I am embarking on a couple of weeks without wheat products, just to make sure, which is something of an annoyance but one which I am well prepared to tackle. It added some interest to grocery shopping this morning, reading all the cereal boxes. Tried mallwalking, which was just a bit too much for me today, but I did find the kind of handsoap Mr S has requested on sale. Got home in time to be on call when Number One Son needed to be picked up from his driving class. Then drove over to pick up apas, in preparation for writing a bunch of comments before next month when I will not have time.

While I lounge on the sofa between such tasks I'm very pleased to have maintained enough concentration to be reading the 700-page tome on Chronic Fatigue Syndrome/ME, and making good time through it, which is excellent because it's astonishingly demoralizing to read and I'll be happy to finish. Even though I am continually thanking my lucky stars I'm not as sick as some people. Even though that doesn't seem to be my problem (I keep telling myself) and I don't have any kind of diagnosis anyway, there's no real medical model for what causes it, so play suspenseful music here. Today I went so far as to Google some of the major players, for the Rest Of The Story, and I'm sorry to say medical science has advanced not at all in the field since 1995 when the book came out. Still officially one of those Only In Your Head problems.

Must go make chicken soup now. It seems suitable to the weather.