Yesterday, in yet another process of cleaning my room, I came across a basket with crayons and colored pencils, leftover from when the children were here. Understand that there are hundreds of crayons and colored pencils here, but I walked around the house with these in my hands, weeping as though they were sacred relics without the children here. I realize that I am pathetic in that regard. Will I EVER get over this???
I took the car to the shop this morning for a tune-up. The gas mileage has been flagging, badly. The mechanic (who is also a ham radio friend) couldn't find much wrong, but he performed the tune-up. When I went to pick up the buggy and head back to Plainfield, the "check engine" light came on. Ain't it the pits??
Life goes on...
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