I have just returned from a delightful potluck, a gathering of women writers, at the house of a wonderful old friend who also happens to be a member of that group.
Earlier in the day, I had an appointment with the eye doc--she really wants to schedule that surgery necessary for the left eye, SOON. I will need someone to be here with me, do food, etc., I was told, for at least four days. (This doc does not think I need to be completely face down for a whole week. We will see.) But four days full time is still a lot; I'm not even sure how to think about this.
And it's amazing how smoothe and easy an injection into the eyeball can feel when contrasted with the possibiity of a surgery.
For a little while after returning from the potluck, I didn't think about it: I tackled the enormous pile of mail that had accumulated during the nine days I was gone. Most of it is seasonal appeals for money. The pile is far from done, and spread out all over the kitchen. It did serve to distract me for a while.
I am falling asleep at the keyboard. More tomorrow. Blessings, blessings.