The day is sunny and windy. It’s around 55˚. I haven’t been out except to get the papers. Yesterday I went to the local hardware store only to find out I had put down a different store, the one in South Yarmouth, for my pick-up. I figured I’d wait until Friday to go as another box is due. I don’t have to wait. I got a notice the first order had been cancelled. I still have hopes for the second.

The dust is thick in this room, thick enough for the Dust Me I sometimes see written on the backs of trucks. I’m going to clean. My psyche demands it.

Henry and Jack entertain each other. A little while ago I noticed Henry’s head was bobbing. I wondered what he was doing then I saw the paws whacking him, one paw to each side of Henry’s face. That’s Jack.

Sometime during the night I heard a cat throwing up. I made note of it and went back to sleep. First thing this morning I looked, found it and cleaned the spot. This is not unusual. People who have cats know.

I haven’t really spoken to the new neighbors since the day they moved in. I do know he uses a ride-on mower. It always gives me a chuckle. There he is mowing the back forty.

I made my banana bread a few days ago. I ate it at every meal. I ate the last of the loaf yesterday. Now I just have bread. It’s a comedown.

Earlier, Henry had two bouts of his marauder barking. I didn’t bother to check. That bark can be triggered by many things, by many sounds. I didn’t hear a car so I’m thinking maybe walkers. Good job, Henry.

My newest project will be making spicy brown mustard. I bought all the ingredients yesterday at Ring’s. I already have perfect jars.

Okay, that’s one afternoon down. Who knows how many to go? What should I make next? Maybe brownies? They are chocolate after all. I always have the ingredients for brownies on hand. Doesn’t everyone?

I am not watching news other than a half hour of local and another half hour of national news. Lately I have been watching movies on a variety of channels, including the new one we just got, Peacock. I’ve also been streaming old TV shows, all black and white shows I remember from my childhood. A lot of them are westerns. I wonder if that is why I am not a fan of westerns, a glut from my childhood. The Range Rider, Hawkeye and the Last of the Mohicans, The Adventures of Rex and Rinty, The Cisco Kid and Annie Oakley are just a few.

I don’t go out often, usually only for a few groceries. I mostly stay home. Some days are quiet. Some days I love that quiet. Other days, other times, I want some noise. I don’t care if it is a lawnmower or a rake. I just want to know the world still goes on outside the walls of my house. Once in a while I hear a car, and I know when the mail truck is here. Henry howls. That’s about it, the only noises I hear. Today, I’m okay with that.

Okay, yesterday was a sloth day for me. I didn’t go anywhere or do anything. I was tired and my back hurt. Yes, I am whining.

I slept the morning away then had my coffee and read one newspaper. Today’s headlines were yesterday’s and last week’s. I’ve been watching movies the last few days. Some of them were bad, but I didn’t care. I wanted a diversion.

Today is a pretty day with sun. It is actually 65˚. I’m heading right out after this. Today is not to be wasted. I do have a small grocery list, and I still need to make the hardware stop.

There is exciting news. The dump started full week service or, anyway, it should have on May 1st. I’ll have to get a new dump sticker by the end of June. For $182.00 I get the right to recycle and dump my own trash.

When I was a kid, I loved walking to school on a sunny spring day. On windy days the shadows of the tree branches swayed on the sidewalks. On quiet days we’d walk through the shadows to the sun shining through the leaves. Its appearance always seemed to be a gift somehow. My friend Michelle and I chatted the whole way. We laughed a lot. Sun and spring do that, make you happy for the day.

My father loved working on his lawn. He also loved working on mine. When he and my mother came to visit, my father would bring his lawn mower, his rake and his trimmer. My mother and I would go shopping, and my father would work on my yard, both front and back. When we got home, my father would proudly escort my mother and me on a tour of my yard. It always looked great. The grass in the backyard near the house had been field high. Now it was neatly shorn. My father gave me a lecture about not letting the grass grow. I wondered if he was talking in metaphors.n

I have to go out later to pick up a few things I ordered at the hardware store then I’m on to Rings for some groceries. I’m thinking stuff for a salad, some fruit and a Payday. From there I’ll hit the road for a bit of a ride.

I can see the dust in all its forms when I walk from room to room. The solutions are easy: ignore the dust or vacuum. I like ignore, but I vacuum. Items on my chore list appear the first day and are repeated the next day if undone. My list a few days back was small but intense. I had to clean the bins under the butcher block. They were heavy and were harboring long ago expiration dates. I cleaned only two. My garbage bag had reached its weight limit.

I bought a wire cart. When I told my sister, she asked if it’s like the one Grandma Ryan used. Yes, it is. I have a cart almost exactly like my grandmother’s cart. The only difference is the wheels of my cart spin so it can be moved up stairs. Still, I’ve decided to keep an eye on myself to make sure I don’t go shopping for flowered dresses, cotton slips or clunky heeled black shoes.

Sitting here gives me time for daydreaming, for making lists filled with things I want to do and places I want to go. The places are easy. My list barely changes from year to year. First, of course, is Ghana. It doesn’t matter how many times I go back, I still need to go back one more time. Nepal, Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam are on my oldest list. I almost made it to Georgia in 1972, but they cancelled that end of my trip. It’s on the list. I once said I wanted to branch out from Europe, but now I want back. I want to visit Eastern Europe. I have been to Russia and Hungary, but I’d like to visit Croatia, Romania and a few more in that area. Romania is Dracula. I still haven’t mentioned the Pacific. I’ll keep you in suspense.

My cleaning lists start with the usual items: water the plants, clean the bathrooms, dust or, if it is really bad, vacuum. The laundry is now and then. What I’ve find myself doing is strange chores, foreign chores like wet mopping the floors downstairs, polishing the silver, washing the crystal, cleaning the hanging pots and culling the baskets under the table.

That list gave me pause, but then I figured I’m okay as long as I keep thinking those are strange, foreign chores.

Sun and blue sky greeted me when I woke up. The morning temperature is inching upward toward 60˚ with an afternoon high of 62˚. That sounds like outside weather to me.

When I was a kid, I loved spring. All the winter layers were packed down in the cellar, and I got to wear my light jacket even though my mother used to make me wear a sweater underneath it. I always groused. It did me no good. My mother always hit me with the either-or. I always chose the sweater under the jacket. My mother knew that. I was manipulated.

Lately I have been the beneficiary of small kindnesses. Two of them were at a Dunkin’ Donuts. The first time was in the afternoon at the drive up. Not a single donut I ordered was left. I told them to surprise me. They did. I was handed a bag with an associated half dozen. Next was at a Subway. I had ordered a sandwich on line and two chocolate chip cookies. When I went to pick up my sandwich, they had me wait. They told me they had been out of cookies and was finishing a batch so I could have mine. They gave a half dozen warm cookies. Not all of them made it home. The last kindness was yesterday. I was in a long line at the Dunkin’ drive-up. When it was my turn, the disembodied voice and I chatted a bit. I ordered my Boston cream donut, thanked him and moved forward. At the window, I paid and was told there was a gift from the disembodied voice. It was a second Boston cream. This was a great gift from the donut world as Boston creams disappear quickly.

Yesterday I took a ride. I went down cape. The sun had been shining long enough to burn off the humidity. The air was clear and smelled sweet. Houses and shops were outlined in the sunlight. I kept my window down so I could feel the breeze. Two of the bigger cranberry bogs are flooded. This keeps them safe from frost. I rode all the way down to Orleans on Route 28 and then all the way back on 6A. It was a delight.

It rained last night. I missed it. I slept right through over an inch of rain. The day is still cloudy, and it could rain again, and I could scream again, that high pitched scream favored by B movie heroines. The weekend, though, has given me hope. It will be a bright spot and will return me to sanity. We could get to the mid 60’s while Boston could reach the 70’s.

I am an older citizen; I am elderly. I am a senior citizen. I get an hour at most grocery stores to shop with my compatriots, the other seniors. I just never get up that early.

My age hasn’t ever been a big issue for me though I cringe when the decades change, especially when I crossed from the 60’s into the 70’s. When I see myself in the mirror, usually when I’m brushing my teeth, I am always surprised by the older woman looking back at me. When did I get old? Am I really old or am I just wrinkled? My mind doesn’t acknowledge old, but my body screams old. It limits me. I hate that.

When I was a kid, I stopped playing with dolls after I was around seven and had learned to read. The only toys I remember from back then are the games. We got a new one every Christmas. It was always in the front leaning on other toys. I still remember the year I got Sorry. I think we played it on Christmas night. Back then I would have been gobsmacked to learn that at 72 I’d still be playing Sorry.

I am going to be part of the banana bread phenomenon, on purpose. I have three blackened bananas, the number which appears in almost every recipe. I can barely wait. Meanwhile, the butter is softening on the counter so I can slather it on the warm bread.

My cardiologist and I are meeting today, virtually. I just got a pre-appointment call asking for updated information, everything I usually tell the doctor. With no EKG, the doctor is left with only a few anecdotal questions.

Today is water the plants day, clean the bathrooms day and make that bread. That sounds exhausting.

Yesterday was a beautiful, sunny and slightly warmer than it has been day. I did an errand and then I went for a ride, in the opposite direction as my last ride. The back roads were fairly empty. I never waited for more than one light cycle. I did some shopping. I bought ice cream.

When I was a kid, I liked popsicles. My favorite was root beer followed by orange. Popsicles were a nickel from Johnny, the ice cream man. Popsicles required certain skills. You had to be quick with the lick before the popsicle dripped down the stick to your hand and made your hand all sticky. As you got to the last of the popsicle, you had catch the pieces before they fell to the ground. Nothing was worse than pieces of orange popsicle dirty on the ground. Popsicle sticks were worth saving. If you saved enough and were a bit handy, you could construct something. I usually made a multicolored house with sticks stained in orange, red and brown.

I paid my real estate taxes this morning. It got me to thinking about when I bought my house. After passing papers, I had no money. My mortgage was half my monthly salary. Those were the days of ground beef, hot dogs and spaghetti. I couldn’t save money to travel. I lived in my den where I slept on the studio couch and ate at the desk. Luckily I had a TV. The other rooms were pretty bare. I bought furniture a piece at a time when I could afford to spend money on other than food and bills. I couldn’t travel. That was the most painful of all.

It took about five years before I could afford to travel. My first trip was back to England. Every year after that, I took to the road. I don’t travel every year now, but I’m okay with that. I haven’t been back to Europe in a long time. My last four trips were the most amazing of any I’d ever taken. I went to Morocco and back to Ghana three times. I’d like to go back one more time when the world welcomes travelers again.

The storm yesterday was dramatic. The rain was torrential. I loved the thunder and lightning. Henry and Jack slept through it all.

Last night or rather in the wee hours, I really wanted ice cream. I had none so I went through the fridge and the cabinets looking for something. I found nothing. I went to bed without my ice cream.

Jack steals socks. Henry stands over me licking his chops when I have my morning coffee. Gwen meows from upstairs to get me up there. It works. I think these animals are taking advantage of me.

Yesterday the only things I did were water the plants and sweep the kitchen. I read until close to five. I just wasn’t tired. Today I’m going to pack those bins I bought and store them. I just need the covers which the bins didn’t have. I’ll be off to the hardware store when I finish here.

Yesterday my smoke detector started beeping, a slow, intermittent beep. I wasn’t sure if it was upstairs so I checked. It wasn’t. It was the one in the hall outside the den. I couldn’t reach it. I have a step stool which is a bit heavy so I opted for the old one I’ve had forever. It has two rungs. The first rung didn’t make me tall enough. I threw caution to the wind and slowly, while praying all the time, I climbed to the second or last rung. It scared me a little bit. I hung on to the wood with one hand and couldn’t reach the smoke detector with the other. The step stool was in the wrong spot. I almost stopped but it beeped. I moved the stool and did the same death defying feat and was able to remove the cover and the battery. The wires are hanging. I don’t care. It’s not beeping.

Today’s weather is back to normal: cold and rainy. Ugly comes to mind. I’m happy to be inside, in my warm house. Yesterday I went to the hardware store. There were tables in front to pick up orders. I bought those tubs I’ve wanted and some cement clue. I have to attach the handle of Henry’s coffee cup.

I have a list. The dust is back and the laundry pile is so high it’s scary. I also have those tubs to fill, and I need to vacuum the cat’s room. The floor is so gritty that if we had sun, I’d lay out my towel and get some color. I am winter pasty white, my suggestion for the newest Crayola color.

Staying inside is not a big deal for me, but I’m getting loopy. I miss people. I’m talking to Henry far too much, so much that he avoids me and naps upstairs.

All this empty time needs to be filled. I watch parts of movies then I get bored. I clean stuff, weird stuff, like under the stove burners, the hearth and any surface my sweatshirt can reach. I go through catalogs and have even ordered a few Christmas presents. Now I need to catalog the gifts.

I bought enough bananas for banana bread. Now I just have to wait until they are brown and squishy.

When I was a kid, summers always got too long. By late August, I was counting the days until school started. Today the count is 135 until the day after Labor Day when schools around here start.

When I was in Ghana, I bought my food every three days at the market. I’d buy beef, eggs, fruit, bread, yams, plantain, tomatoes, garden eggs and when they were in season FraFra potatoes. I’d load all of that into my woven shepherd’s bag which always stretched to hold whatever I put in it. It got pretty heavy.

I ate the same thing just about every day. In the morning it was coffee, two eggs over easy and toast. In the afternoon, it was always cut up fruit: oranges, pineapple, bananas and sometimes mango and pawpaw. The evening meal was mashed yam and beef in some kind of sauce, often tomato. There was never dessert though we did sometimes buy Coke and a Cadbury bar as treats for later in the evening. We bought them at the DPW store on the next street from my school. The Coke was cold.

The lateness of today is because I have been outside taking in the most beautiful morning, a warm, sunny morning now gone afternoon. I did have a list for today, but it is now trashed for some other day. When I finish here, I’m going for a ride. Today is not to be wasted.

When I was a kid, this would have definitely been a bicycle day. I’d have hauled my bike out of the cellar, jumped on and pedaled far and wide. I’d ride uptown and walk my bike on the sidewalk. I’d stop at the best store windows, the best for viewing. The fish market was always my favorite despite the fishy smell. Their lobster pool was in the front window. I used to stand a while and watch the lobsters move around the tank. My second favorite window was Woolworth’s. It was filled with sundries. Grant’s was a far third. Sometimes I’d also stop at the library.

My bicycle routes brought me all over town and sometimes to the next towns. My bike wasn’t fancy. It had a front wire basket. There were no gears. The brakes worked when you back pedaled. It was hard to ride up steep hills. I was more of a bike walker up those hills, including sometimes my own. I loved my town especially from my bike.

The Boston Globe had an article today about solo quarantines. One quote gave me a chuckle. “I’m a little grouchy and short-tempered.” That’s me. I find myself screaming at Henry when he does his uninterrupted barking. I am torn between leaving the front open to keep him busy or shutting it to keep him quiet. Right now it is open. I’m opting for quiet.

Today is the thirteenth day of rain for the month of April. That’s thirteen out of twenty-four. I’m thinking it’s time to change the weather nomenclature. This is now the rainy season. That means I will never be disappointed by days like today filled with dark clouds and rain; instead, I will celebrate another day by wearing a funny hat and blowing a horn out the front door. GO RAIN!!!!

Yesterday I made it to the dump. I had no choice. My car and trunk were filled with trash and bags of papers. I even had to drag some of the heavier bags to the car. The dump was filled so people had to wait to get to the open trash bins. I had to negotiate an orange cone shalom around the recycle bins to get to the trash. When I was done, I didn’t want to go home. Because this was my first time out in weeks, I decided to go for a ride. I decided to take the ocean road. I made a few observations.

I was surprised by the number of cars on the road, at least the main road. On my way to the dump, I could see that the Stop and Shop lot was looking pretty filled close to the store.

I was struck by how lovely most lawns and yards look. It is early for clean up around here, but I’m thinking yard work is now the second favorite reason to get people out of the house, grocery shopping being first. I saw a lot of people kneeling in front of flower beds and a few guys mowing. Driving as slowly as I was for no particular reason meant I got to see what I usually miss. One yard had what looked like a wasp metal sculpture winging off a tree stump. Beside the driveway of one house was a sign: Private Property, No U-Turn. Okay, that sounds sensible on the surface but this driveway was for a house in the middle of nowhere. I could think of no reason to u-turn in that driveway so I really wanted to, but the adult in me held sway.

The ocean looked cold and had small white caps close to shore. There were no cars in the beach lots. The restaurant and hotels were still in winter mode.

I stopped at Ring’s on my way home. I bought some chocolate, cold cuts, bread and cut fruit and vegetables. I was done. I went home.