November 7, 1991

I go to work at the regular time.  I need to finish preparing the board packet.  I do take the afternoon off, though, and spend the time taping music and weeding my files.

JoAnna returns my call at 4:30 and informs me that I won't have to pick up Andy.  Inexplicably, I react very negatively to the supper question even though I have a clear idea what's on the menu.

After 4/5s of a hectic week, I let two martinis do an incredibly relaxing job on me.  But according to JoAnna, I get too loose, and I must have been because I can't figure out what I did that was so disruptive.   Not that I was blasted or anything.

After supper, I give Andy a bath, watch a little TV, and read the introduction to Rivethead.  The fact that my eyes have trouble focusing on the page is a clear indication that I am not my usual self.

November 3, 1991

Chores all  morning:  laundry, rearranging cabinets.  By the early afternoon, I just want to spend an hour or two immobile.  It's an indoor kind of day.  Outside the wind howls -- the wind chill registers -20.  The leaves in the back yard still cover the lawn, and I never get around to washing the mildew off the house.  Not to mention rototilling the garden.

JoAnna fixes a great supper, ham and scalloped potatoes.  I clean up and give Andy a bath.  Later on, I resume my desk reorganization, dumping pages and pages of newspaper article photocopies and weeding out long-neglected files, perhaps throwing away some memories in the process.  Debatable.