I changed up my routine this morning, showering and doing my mat work first and then attending a men’s breakfast at my church to organize ourselves for Saturday’s spaghetti feed following a promising piano concert to benefit the repair of the church’s belfry. I’ve assigned myself clean-up duty so I can make sure to hear the full hour of music. I don’t care so much about how I spend the time afterwards, washing pots and pans on a Saturday night in the spirit of Brother Lawrence making it tolerable.
Part of the reason I switched my morning routine was because I wasn’t quite sure how I wanted to begin. Yesterday morning had been a cinch. This morning I was more introspective, dwelling on the “age-factor”. First of all, I was upset at myself for even entertaining the hackers who were at it again, phoning me first thing, East Indian voices, representing “Microsoft Technical Services”, they said, who wanted to refund me the money I’d authorized for their security services last July. Because I wanted to get my money back, I listened to them for awhile as they tried to convince me that while their security system was not compatible with the Mac system, my computer was in jeopardy from other foreign sources. I stopped all communication at the point where the woman on the phone wanted me to drop everything and drive to Walmart’s and purchase two ITune cards for $100 each as part of the fix. Her last words to me were to the affect that If I shut her off now I would never get my refund. At that point, I no longer cared, mad at my inability to say “no” right off the bat and move on. Furthermore, this stupid preoccupation with the hackers put me behind on my schedule for getting my dinner ready for my 3 guests that evening. The fact that I was experiencing heightened anxiety over the matter led me to wonder if my age isn’t involved here, too. Working with a new recipe with less time than expected upset me. And, then, on top of that I found myself being extremely tired, to the point where I had to collapse on the sofa for a half hour even though I didn’t want to take the time.
The dinner itself was a pleasant affair as it always is with old friends. In this case, I invited a new friend to join us, the new owner and editor of the local paper. As a host you never know how the match-up of ‘old and new’ will work. In this case, it was delightful from beginning to end. Not only was my new friend a fellow Buckeye, he also espoused views in his weekly editorials which I was inclined to agree with. He did tell me that some subscribers had cancelled because his views were considered much too liberal. So unnecessary a response, when readers are consistently invited to engage in conversation, exchange ideas and get a dialogue going. The food? I put too much spice in the “Spicy Southwestern Beef Stew” but my old friend, a seasoned host herself, suggested sour cream which I luckily had a container of. And so, on a sour note, the evening was saved. Serving everyone a Haagen Dazs dark chocolate ice cream bar for dessert capped the evening. By the time I’d cleaned up, putting the dishes in the dish washer and the left-overs in the fridge, it was 10 PM. I note again that I was too tired to read. I was asleep in minutes, sleeping for a solid 5 hours (about a hour longer than usual for me).
