One more day till a personal D-Day arrives

 I wrote a version of this post last Saturday when the world didn’t end, as someone predicted. Eight p. m. Finally, an idea. . . But wait, I needed to refresh my iced root beer. . . Passing into the living room, I realized it was Saturday night, and I always “practiced” the music for the next day’s church service. I turned on the piano light and the overhead one, pulled the bench out, opened the lid and went over the music. I was ready. I moved the hymnal to the door-side table and slipped my offering check inside.

Now, into the kitchen to . . .  I felt hungry. The poets’ group had eaten snacks at 2:30, but it was supper time. Fresh pears, Cheetos and white cheese hit the empty spot in my body, and while typing, I filled the empty spot on this page.

This scenario sets up my modus operandi: I go from room to room and project to project. Friends say they start something and stick with it till it’s finished. Not me! I didn’t refresh my root beer, choosing to save it for later when I would make a float with the frozen yogurt in the freezer.

D-Day is Saturday: The small group of ’54 Bryant High School girls who get together once a month for breakfast grew tired of our latest local venue. The server was harried; folks staying at the motel for the Amplify! concert, made the crowd larger and it included tween-agers. We discussed going back to each other’s homes, but instead of the hostess doing everything, we would “potluck.” I offered Couchwood for September 30.

But during September, I had eight writing-related, time-consuming happenings. Add an eye appointment (scheduled for a year), a monthly Bryant Bunch lunch, and an unplanned-but-must-attend funeral service.

My office, emptied for a ceiling repair, was mostly back in order. DALLYING NO LONGER DEEMED de rigueur! GET IT DONE—NOW!!

Okay! Okay! After I’ve read another chapter in each of the five books on the coffee table, and after I finish reading the day’s state and local papers.

This week, I bought K-cups of decaf and cappuccino, just in case any of the girls preferred them. Also, a new fall-color throw rug and a new runner for the buffet. I redressed the tops of both china cabinets, adding two new pitchers to one and a fall-ish cookie jar to the other.

Today, I’ve swept cat hair and cobwebs from under every piece of furniture, washed throw rugs, moved a plant to a bathroom shelf and made the living room presentable. Saturday morning, I’ll blow (or sweep) myriad oak leaves from the front porch so that the new pots of mums at the driveway will shine as the “girls” arrive.

The only other project there’ll be time for is to straighten up the top of the handmade library table that’s been passed down from Granddaddy Noah Couch. No telling what I’ll discover at the bottoms of the stacks of papers, clippings, and other writing detritus.

Wish me luck.

c 2017, PL dba lovepat press