Last week, Tuesday, I was put together enough to take a selfie for this blog. This week, Tuesday--election day--I am still in my pajamas and it's coming up on 5:30 pm. Tom has also been in his pajamas all day, but he just went to take a shower. Does this mean he will get dressed? In some form, I suppose.
It is a few minutes away from being dark. I miss daylight savings. I can already feel a cloud of dark doom awaiting to descend, but the house is pretty picked up, which is how I know it has not yet descended. I think I can avert it until mid-January. Or I can embrace that every winter is one of discontent and just go with it. I am what I am. Only Jesus can save me now.
I'm wearing a really cute, pink bed jacket over my cotton white night gown--think Eileen West-- I've never had a bed jacket, just bathrobes. Bed jackets are for old ladies. Oh, guess what? I am an old lady. Anyway, I ordered it from the Vermont Country Store and I like it because it's not too hot, but it covers my appalling upper arms. And it has pockets. One can't have too many pockets.
It was clean when I put it on this morning, but now it has Rocky Road ice cream dribbled down the front. (Does one capitalize ice cream flavors?)
People, it's election day! I never write about politics, but it's election day! Looking good, but it was looking good in 2016 too, until it wasn't looking so good. I was in Canada the last election.
Now we're in downtown SLC getting emails from our bishop to stay in doors in case of violence breaking out on the street. I feel like I live in a home where the help is locking us up in our rooms. He absolutely means the best. If there is violence in the street, I'll probably join in. I've never been arrested, so that would be a first. How many firsts are left?
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