I don’t know what to do today. Yesterday, I suddenly had the urge to have my hair trimmed, cut or shaved off and so hopped in the car and went to the shop and didn’t choose an option. I let the hairdresser do it. I’m going to a wedding on Saturday and fortunately no roots are showing; they will probably spout Friday night. When I wrote the check before I left, they have to see the driver’s license and ask your birth date. It seems the person couldn’t hear the 1948 the first time, so I said it again, louder. Still, she didn’t catch it, so I said it even louder 1948.  Yes, everyone in the shop knew.  Of course, I don’t know what difference that makes to me; I mean they were looking right at me – they didn’t need a date to tell I was older.

But, back to today. It is supposed to be cooler. Perhaps I should go up to Mother’s and fly a kite. Or I could stay here and clean. Maybe I will try on the clothes I am wearing to the wedding and, having assured myself they fit, head off to Mother’s so I don’t risk staying here and eating too much while I clean. (Did you know you can hear tittering over the Internet? Well, you can and I do. Just stop it.)

Maybe I’ll do the trying on clothes thing right now . . . because I might have to  panic.

Trying on time – feel free to hum, get a snack, whatever.

Okay, I am back.

Yes, yes, yes and thank you Talbots (sale): Linen skirt, check; white knit top with crochet collar, check; linen big shirt/jacket, check.

Well, now that that is settled. Well, sort of. I actually took advantage of the sale to get two skirts, so which to wear? Oatmeal or Seaglass? Probably wait until the last minute. And the skirt waist is big enough for reception goodies. Woo-hoo. Oh, little Indian Happiness Dance.

So what to do today? I forgot about needing to clean the inside of the car . . . and we have to determine if Summer is coming along. Alison thinks she should stay because she will be bored, and there is the  scenario where Der Bingle and I return with wedding goodies in our tummies and splat ourselves on sofas and Summer says, “Finally, you’re back; where are we going now?” I don’t know how she would respond to the suggestion of the balcony. Actually, I do know.

Today is sounding more complicated. And it’s already 8:42 am. As John Wayne would say, I’m burning daylight.