I had plans for yesterday. You know how that goes. He did want to go to an estate sale or two. One house I really wanted to see, so I went along happily, and planned to work on the book all afternoon.
Built in 1906, this house was cut in half in the 1940’s. A horrible sin as far as I could see. The owner took out the main entrance and center hall. It was the most distinguished of homes even cut in half. Imagine doing that to a five-acre estate on the top of Point Loma. Took off the third floor also.
Then home. He said he had slept poorly the previous night so he napped. He napped the day away, and I, thoughtless person I am, forgot to take my book project down to the first floor before he fell asleep.
So I read. There’s really nothing you can do if HE is asleep upstairs, and you are projectless downstairs. The new Evanovitch was entertaining, and ”Riding the Bus with my Sister” is a keeper.
Today if he wants an all afternoon nap, he doesn’t get one until I get the DC book out of the office. I feel really sorry for bone tired, aching, immovable him. Selfishly I want to live too.