This afternoon I had an appointment at the VA Hospital for physical therapy. On the way we always pass this dry cleaner in Portland that has the coolest sign in the window – “Drop your pants here!” I’d do it, but Diane won’t stop and let me. Just want to accommodate.

This morning I spent a couple of hours with Daniel seeing how bad the damage is on the bathroom floor and the consensus is that we’re just going to gut it and start from scratch. We know for sure that we’ll have to replace some of the sub-flooring, and underlayment, so might as well make sure it’s all gone. The mold smell is horrendous now that we’ve unleashed it into the atmosphere. But, it’s trapped in the bathroom and the kids are on notice to stay out until it’s all cleaned up. We also yanked out the bathtub. It’s actually OK where it was sitting, but I wrecked it with the sledge yesterday, as reported, so feel obligated to replace it. I suggested to Dan that we just put it in the back yard and they can use it to plant something. It will probably just go into the dumpster that’s on the way.

On the way home we stopped at Fred Meyer’s to get “a couple of things” and walked out many more than that. Typical for those kinds of stops. But, we needed all of it so it wasn’t a wasted or un-frugal stop. One thing she got is a cat nip scratch pad thingies for Breezy. She laid on it a couple of times then ran off when I tried to move it away from the deck railing, fearing she might start flipping all over and fall off. We’ll see how it works out.

Dinner tonight is beans-n-weinies and potato patties. Comfort food. Diane boiled a dead chicken yesterday thinking I’d make egg noodles today, for my world-famous chicken and noodle soup, but there was no time. That will be a task for tomorrow. It’s not really soup because there are no vegetables in it. I cook the liquid down, and add flour until it’s thick like gravy, then we put it on mashed potatoes. It’s part of our new diet that I call “I Like Starch So There.”  For those who like acronyms, it could be ILISTARSOTH.

EB, my physical therapist, made me hurt today and all he used was extremely large rubber bands. I didn’t know it at the time, but now it’s 7:30 pm, five hours later, and I’m a little sore. Maybe I should exercise more.

Gotta quit, now. Game seven of the NBA finals is on.

Go Spurs.