Poverty Is Not an Accident

Poverty Is Not an Accident
Nelson Mandela

Thursday, February 19, 2004

I feel guilty

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

There's so much I want to do, but my ol' body is worn out. I walked about eight miles this week. And pushing the cart hurts my arms, neck and shoulders..even my wrists. There's no WAY I could have pushed a plow all day! Wow, how do people DO that?!

I made crepes this morning. I've discovered I can stretch one egg into about eight crepes, if I'm careful. I used low fat milk, but thinned that more with water, too. I didn't add butter. I did add vanilla, and a tad more salt than usual (I often don't eat any salt) to compensate for missing butter.

I squirted them with juice from some orange segments, and just a tad of pancake syrup, just for fun. I ate the rest of the orange, before I ate the crepes, so I wouldn't pucker.

I'm full.

It's alternatingly pretty and ugly outside. I heard "snow" in the forcast, but I doubt they meant here. Life would be nicer without wind sigh.

I was hoping to do some laundry today. I don't think so. brr

I did get my trash taken today. It's been over a month since I set my container out. I just don't make much trash. But I had turkey and ham bones today. Whatever the animals won't eat gets dried in the yard for trash day. If I let it dry, it won't rot and stink.

I picked up dog poo. Man, that dog is a turd factory! How can one dog make four piles a day?

I'm back in bed, listening to Performance Today.

There are eleven million things I ought to be doing: sewing, crafts, laundry, cleaning...blah, blah.

But that eight miles of walking affects every joint movement in my body today, including typing. That's from holding onto the cart handles.

So, I'll rest. I'm tempted to go back to sleep: the ultimate decadance.

This walking hurts like hell. And, so far, at least, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier, 'though I've been doing it for several weeks now. It causes me a lot of fatigue and pain.

But I'm determined to try to get my strength back.

Y'know, Porkchop's snoring in a puddle of sunlight at my feet. Miss Thing's curled on a pillow at my side.

I'm going back to sleep.

Don't set anything on fire while I'm out, ok?

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