Her Highness and I walked early. It wasn’t raining, but it was foggy, damp and cool. I kept the fire roaring because I thought that it was Sunday. I was certain that it was My Day. I said so in yesterday’s post. I was shocked to realize that it was Saturday yesterday.
The morning was spent reading book two of the DI Ryan Wilkins series by Simon Mason. My God, I am loving these books. I guess I’ll be going back to detective mysteries again. I shall hunt down books by Martin Walker that I have not yet read. But when I wasn’t reading, I was emailing back and forth with Aidan.
It's clear that my role is starting to become clear: Memberships, fundraising and communications. It’s a perfect fit for me. Aidan has sent me many documents to review, and I have a long list of things to do for homework. I can tell Aidan is happy to have found someone so keen to work. Part of my brain that was ‘dead’ is coming back to life; what I mean is that I’m becoming the person I was when I was an arts advocate.
I went into the village to order more puffers at the pharmacy. It was bitterly difficult to speak with the clerk. Normally, at the pharmacy, where I go so very often, I can speak easily. I was frustrated and disappointed. Then, when Her Highness and I went for our afternoon walk, we came upon François with whom I am always fluent. I love the guy. But I could barely speak to him. He invited me to join him as he walked Clovis and Walnut, but I declined because it was going to kill me to speak so poorly with him.
Something is wrong, but I don’t care. Not speaking is not dying. It’s an inconvenience, not anything dangerous. How my attitude and response to poor speech have changed for the better.
And speaking of something wrong, you should have seen the pyrotechnics in my microwave last night. I was melting butter in a ceramic dish when there were bolts of white light like when a transformer goes wonky. I stopped the device and then started it again and it worked, but now I am scared to use it.
I think a lot about SPACE when I am not reading, so I was delighted when Aidan proposed another chat. We are Zooming on Monday, so that drove more thinking and, just before I started watching a movie, I don’t know what I did. I texted him, or I messaged him, DM’d him; I am having to learn a lot of new language as Aidan drags me into this world of instant communication. I honestly don’t know what the right word is for how I sent text to him, but I sent him a bunch of questions about his budget and that led to a lot of back and forth of whatever it was we were doing.
One of the reasons I love Aidan is because I see myself in him. (Does that make me a narcissist?) He reminds me of myself because for many years I had ideas and I would get funding for them and find supporters and donors in order to make my ideas come to life. This is a world I know well, and talking non-profit operations and strategies with Aidan is the most fun I’ve had in ages.
Now…finally…it is My Day, my weekly day of permitted self-indulgence. The fact is, though, My Day is not much unlike every other day. If I was inclined, My Day would be a day for sweets, but I’m off sweets. I still want them, but I won’t eat them. I don’t want to gain weight now that my asthma is so bad.
It’s a dull day today. We’ll walk, I’ll read and time will pass pleasantly. The fire will roar, bread will be made, the electric blanket will be turned on, and Simon Mason will make me very happy. I’ll finish book two today.
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