I didn’t need as much effort as I’d thought, but I did will myself to have a better day. Better sleep and a less painful throat helped, but some yard work and basement maintenance were probably the kickers.
I am always perfectly content to ride as opposed to drive, so Nicole was surprised when she asked if she could drive Dad’s truck when we needed to run some errands and I said no. The power that surges through my being as I fire up the Silverado is addictive, and I feel more manly every time I’m behind its steering wheel. Seriously, though, I’ll “let” her drive next time.
I will have at least one of my usual four part-time jobs next semester. Stephens confirmed that I’ll be operating as a virtual-only writing tutor out of their library, and that I may be taking on some additional duties checking up on incoming freshmen as they deal with what can only be a weird educational campaign.
Our friend Susie gifted us with some blackberry moonshine from the lakes to help us through our recent tragedy, and Nicole had an inkling it would mix well with Maine Root Ginger Beer (the best!)–it’s a bit too sweet to drink neat. We each had a glass with some fresh sweet corn on the cob and a tomato and mayo sandwich, then we had another.
All evening, we listened to Curtis Mayfield and The Impressions’ classic ’60s and early ’70s recordings–not a bad way at all to lessen pandemic anxiety before hitting the sack.
Streaming for Strivers:
If you’re in the mode for Joe…