Mallory's Camera

Plans changed—and this was actually a relief.

I was gonna go down to the City early this morning to hang out with C, but it turns out that C was just told he has to have chemotherapy for what he is describing as "precancerous crustaceans." (He means keratoses! 😀) It's a more efficient option than sanding each lesion off individually.

But anyway, he thought he'd be a distracted host, and I quickly agreed.

Now I can spend a leisurely day packing and doing all those last-minute trip preparation things that, otherwise, I would forget to do.

Plus, the heat dome is back, so this would not have been a good day to tromp around Central Park.

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I have been crazy busy and in a snappish mood.

A pal called for advice (you know who you are!), and I bit her head off: "You need to develop boundaries!!!"

I made two trips up to the Catskills to collect all of Brian's books and make sure they go to good homes, and that was a lot of driving.

The "low air in tires" light kept flashing on in my car. Slow leak. One tire in particular was the culprit, so finally I did a close inspection of the tire—and whaddiya know, I found a nail. And instead of realizing that this was actually a gift from God—because returning from my trip and getting to my car only to find I had a flat tire would have been a fuckin' nightmare—I was filled with resentment that I had to buy a new tire.

Ichabod was having air travel problems. (He and RTT are doing GrassRoots together over the next week, and he'd decided to fly into Buffalo, drive to Ithaca from there.) His flights kept getting canceled or postponed, and we were texting each other, and it was like I was in the airport right along with him, gnashing my teeth over every delay. Unbearable. That's the worst thing about being a parent—that your children will feel pain or frustration, and there's not a damn thing you can do to prevent that.

Other stuff too, but fortunately, I've developed protective amnesia.

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I'd like to have some fun.