The Grind

Ooh La La:

I dressed like a French woman today with the little coral floral silk scarf. I wore the brown pinstripe pants and brown 3/4-sleeve turtleneck, and the white stone earrings from the museum gift shop and my newest splurge: three autumn-color bangles in coral rust and cranberry.

Would much rather talk about this.

The woman is coming tomorrow to clean my apartment.

I tip her $20 if she does a good job. She next comes in January. I hope I can keep up this two month cleaning schedule. I really do not like to clean. It's been this way ever since I can remember: as far back as when I was a young girl. I was nine or 10 and even then I didn't like to dust the furniture or vacuum the floor. I would have been perfectly content if I could get away with not doing it. I had no concept of needing to pitch in as part of my contribution to the household.

This is how it has always been: it's not a feminist thing only the way I am: I would rather do anything than clean. It is because I am not a traditional woman in any sense of the Traditional's focus and locus.

One thing: a child should be given an allowance separate from his chores and responsibilities. All kids should be assigned things to do based on their age and ability. I resisted that and I was wrong.

OK: I hope you are able to clean your apartment or house regularly. I know someone who does this and I applaud her. I'm lucky I'm not ill-equipped to clean because I'm depressed: the only reason is I resist doing this and try to get away with not doing it for as long as I can.

Ah: let's move on to something else.

______________________________


I bought for only five dollars a candy-stripe plastic band ring in raspberry-pink-and-plum. It looks delicious.


The young woman who cleaned my apartment did a good job and I tipped her $20.

The jacket is at the tailor to be hemmed. I pick it up next Wednesday after work and take it home. Would love to wear it to the talk I give at the IPRT. I would not wear gray or black if I were giving a speech. Red is my color. As a woman I once worked with told me: "Red is your color, Winter!" I like being a Winter and rarely wear clothes and makeup outside of this season's colors.

I nixed buying lipstick in the drug store when I was shopping there to pass the time before returning to the apartment. Instead I bought a sugar purer and when I arrived home I realized I did not need it. So I will donate it to the Salvation Army along with the other items on Saturday.

What does Amazon.com know that I don't know? Hint, hint: it automatically recommended for me The Newlywed Cookbook. I kid you not. I was up at 3 a.m. ordering from them the Claire Ultimo poetry dog tags kit and the website helpfully suggested I buy that book.

The poetry dog tags come with a ball chain necklace and you string the silver dog tags through the chain. The tags have words like sparkle and hope engraved on them. I'm going to use the sparkle one for my inspiration board.

I also found my black-and-white photo of Audrey Hepburn to tack to the cork board. I have a picture of myself dressed in the red Soho jacket and I'm holding a cup of coffee in front of the now-defunct Lolabelle's. That was my original photo for the Living Life column I started writing seven years ago. I will also hang on the board from a pin the red glass heart necklace to symbolize my compassion and kind heart. I'll go on Sunday to the hardware store to snitch-er, take home-a red paint swatch or two.

Ideally I'd pin up a photo of my new guy friend. Maybe a postcard from Italy or another beautiful note card.

The wind is screaming outside tonight or should I say this early morning.

It reminds me of the Jesus and Mary Chain lyrics: "The wind it screams around the trees for my psychocandy." They were one of my favorite modern rock bands in the 1980s. That's exactly how it sounds now: like someone screaming for salvation.

I'm awake now because I have to get up at 6 a.m. to get ready for a medical test that I took the day off for. Mom drives me there and then we go back to my apartment and she heats up Thanksgiving leftovers: turkey and stuffing, with cranberry sauce on the side. The real Thanksgiving will be celebrated at my cousin's apartment in Queens. Luckily I have that Friday off so I don't have to wake up early the next day.

I have a salty mouth. Hopefully I will not have to repeat this test for at least five years.

One hour to go until medicine time.

A cavity in my tooth and now this. I feel ancient even though I'm only almost 45. The other people in the doctor's office were all older and I wondered: is this really necessary at my age? Apparently it is. My primary care doctor is on top of things. She knows what she's doing. I'm the rare person with schizophrenia who has good medical treatment.

The guy on the Island couldn't be accused of malpractice though he certainly wasn't a good doctor. Dr. Krall is a Diplomate of Internal Medicine and that can only be a good thing.

Before this devolves into a rant I will begin to wind down this blog entry.

You have heard enough from me all this time and I will leave you now to enjoy the sunrise coming up wherever you live. Or the midnight sun.

Tootles.