Saturday, July 11, 2026

     I curse at this young man who wants me to drive my car into the dark basement garage. I am picking up my friend from a medical appointment. My eyes are too slow to shift to safely see in the dark. He is embarrassed and says this is his boss’s new rule. I turn my car around awkwardly to sit in the driveway outside of the dark garage. There is street paring available.

     Later I worry about the cursing. Mostly I am embarrassed by being old and damaged. I pretend to be competent and normal. And maybe I am normal for an old woman. Maybe it is ok to yell sometimes. but it feels like I am losing it. I just can’t make my eyes adjust faster in the dark.

     The fog breaks open for a couple of hours of sunshine in the afternoon. Every where I look, flowers are blooming. We eat some of the first tomatoes. My roommate has planted watermelon seeds that will grow in our cold foggy climate.

     I am reading a memoir, GHOST STORIES by Siri Hustvedt about her grief around her husband’s cancer death. Of course it is well written. Another step in becoming familiar with the details of dying. In the evening, we watch two episodes of season two of BEEF, I find the story too angry and too violent. I prefer the controlled fierceness and drama in detective stories.  Nothing new to say about the president’s confusing war with Iran. So scary.