The good news is that Tom is getting better and the doctor who put him on life support, as a last resort, thinks Tom is going to win. Thank you all for your kind thoughts regarding Tom. I won’t dwell on the details. Just know that it appears the DNR Linda authorized won’t be needed quite yet.

Now, the bad news.

It isn’t really catastrophic, as some bad news events I’ve experienced, but it’s still one of those unmanly events I seem to get caught up in once in a while. The garage sale, it was. I mentioned this last night, shortly before midnight, at which Diane called a halt, ending my endless trips up and down the basement stairs, adding boxes of “things” to the Buick’s interior. It was amazing how she cleared out big areas down there. We discovered the pool table that Jack and Wynette sent over. It hasn’t been put together, yet, but it’s still there. I’d forgotten about it.

It disappeared because it’s a large horizontal surface which everyone knows is extremely handy for collecting a large amount of ‘stuff’. Ultimately, it simply disappears under a mound of quilts, blankets, computers, games, boxes of bolts, screws, and nails. Stuff like that. I think there were some underwear in there someplace, too. Don’t know whose they were but they weren’t mine because there weren’t any spots on them and they didn’t fit. I checked.

Diane and I arrived at her Mom’s house shortly after 8 am. Did you get that? 0800! It was brutal having to leave my nice comfy recliner to go empty out the Buick. But, I had my coffee, so I dealt with it as best I could. Getting there early gave me an opportunity to visit the neighbor to see what kind of bargains he had. The best one was a chain saw for $16. An old guy beat me to it, however. The owner, the neighbor’s Dad, picked it up, yanked the cord once, and it fired right up. What a great deal that was.

They also had all manner of things that plug-in, but I have lots of those already. Oddly, as I recall them, all I can ‘see’ is two long rows of various kinds of drills with the cords neatly wound up and rubber banded to the handles. Very clean and proper, it was. I was impressed.

After spending a couple of hours ‘in the area’, I gained my freedom around 10 am and went home where I wandered around aimlessly in the basement in a failed attempt to be as productive as Diane in ridding my shop of things I don’t really need. It was painful. I honestly cannot remember doing anything useful until I texted Diane and asked if she was hungry. That was shortly after noon.

So, I drove the Buick, which I’m allowed to drive when I’m by myself, back to Grams’ where I received $20 and a request for one of those chicken teriyaki Subway sandwiches. I had my heart set on tacos, and was determined to get some, but that didn’t work out because I hit the light just right to make the left turn to Subway, so I took it. Taco Bell is to the right. Then, when I attempted to park, I couldn’t because some old person in front of me took the very last spot. Therefore, I had to back out of the lot and go park about a mile away and walk back. By the time I returned spaces were available, of course, but it’s luck of the draw getting one when you drive in.

I ordered the dead chicken sandwich and also my favorite – a foot long real deal egg (not just whites) with double bacon on non-nutritional white bread. I always order ‘non-nutritional white bread’ to which the sandwich makers almost always validate with, “Italian?” This gets my approval because I know it’s the right one.

Like normal, I asked them to not cut mine in half because I was just going to devour it so it was a wasted effort. Turns out that this time I should have let them do it because it was really limp in the middle and kind of flopped over. Definitely not a one-handed sandwich. For a drink, Diane’s Mom, Jean, got me one of her sodas. It was a tiny little 7.5 oz can. Just about the cutest, most adorable little can of soda I believe I’ve ever had the pleasure of holding. It made me feel like an NBA basketball player with a normal soda, the way it fit in my hand. I think it was Sprite.

At this time, 8:21 pm, Diane is once again in the basement boxing ‘things’ up for me to cart up the stairs. I guess it’s good exercise for me but I’m not a fan of exercise. Neither is Diane. I admit, we ‘talk’ about walking, and actually did, one time, walk down to her Mom’s house with the dogs but we never did it again. It’s downhill the first half which wasn’t too bad, but had it not been for the dogs pulling us back up the hill, we would have called it quits. Maybe if we did it more regularly it would get easier. Ya think?

I don’t think I mentioned one of the benefits we gained by me cutting down the hedge out front. The sprinklers can actually reach all the way to the bed, now, when the window is open. Thankfully, it was Diane’s side that took the brunt of the soaking, so I didn’t really mind. Diane likes to water the brown lawn this time of year, for some reason, and didn’t think about the window being open because it’s never been a problem before. Now it is.

Now I must quit. I’ve been typing for 9 minutes now and my fingers are getting tired. I need a drink of water with which I will raise in a toast to Tom’s continued success.

G’nite.