It seems I have taken the characteristics of a sloth to a new level. My daily accomplishments are miniscule. The other day I watered my plants. That rated a cheer. Yesterday I put boxes and magazines in the car for my next dump run, cleaned the mouse, the phone and the table and disassembled the smoke alarms while standing on a step ladder. After that I took a nap, my reward for such industry. I wonder what tasks I’ll find to do today.

I heard the rain on the roof when I woke up, and it is still raining. It will rain on and off all day today, but it will be warm, in the 60’s. I didn’t go out yesterday but will today.

My neighbor is here to fix the smoke alarms. He is on the stepladder now. Better him than me. The alarms are electric with battery back-ups. I had two batteries so I need to get one more for the alarm in the cellar. That one is near a wall so I can lean on the wall to keep me upright.

When I was a kid, my play clothes were always comfortable. I wore shorts, sleeveless blouses and sneakers in the summer. In the colder weather I wore dungarees, long sleeved shirts, some of which were flannel, and a winter jacket on the coldest days. I wore my sneakers unless it snowed then I’d wear my boots.

When I was older, I was never really big on fashion. I wore a uniform to school and play clothes after school, same as always. But one Christmas, I got the outfit of my dreams, one that was quite fashionable. I got black ski pants with the loops for your feet and a pink angora sweater. I was styling.

I remember being at my grandparents’ house one Easter Sunday. The whole family was there as usual. That year I was probably around twelve. We, the multitude of grandchildren, were wearing our new Easter clothes. I didn’t wear fancy Easter clothes. Fancy and I were and still are incompatible, mismatched. My Easter outfit was simple, a new skirt, new blouse and a new pair of shoes. All the women, my mother, grandmother and aunts, were, as usual, in the kitchen. I was in the outer room on my way to the kitchen when I heard a discussion about me. The aunts were questioning my choice of Easter clothes. They didn’t understand why I wasn’t dressy. Why the skirt and blouse? My mother defended me,”That’s what she wanted,” was all she said. End of discussion. I didn’t go into the kitchen.