My house is cold, a lingering cold from last night. I have turned on the heat, but once the house is warm, I’ll turn it off again. The dogs love this weather. They stay outside for the longest time coming in only for a treat, especially Henry, the chow hound.

I still have to change the gauze on my finger. Because my hand was painful yesterday, I decided to wait until today. The new technique will be to unwind the old gauze then wind the new gauze.

When I was a kid, every Sunday, I usually walked to church, but if it was raining, I’d go early with my father who was an usher at the eight o’clock mass upstairs. His job was to walk to the front of the church with his basket, go from row to row to collect the money then count it in the back vestibule of the church. I remember he always smiled at me when he collected my dime.

If I didn’t go with my father, I walked to church. Mostly I went to the mass downstairs because it was shorter than the mass upstairs. There either was no sermon or a very short one. The downstairs pews were old. They made all sorts of creaking sounds when people moved or shifted. They were usually the only sounds, other than the priest, I heard during the mass.

Every Sunday at my school in Ghana there was a service of sorts. My students wore their Sunday clothes. Each class had a separate pattern of Ghanaian cloth for their dresses which were three pieces, a top, skirt and a wraparound cloth. The service was in the cafeteria. Sometimes it was the white father from the Catholic church in town. Other times it was a minister from one of the other churches in town. Once it was me. I was a nervous wreck as sermons were outside my knowledge base. I regretted saying yes to my principal. It took me a while to come up with the theme. I ended up with one of Aesop’s fables. I don’t remember which one I used. I just remember it was a unique take on the Sunday sermon.

The morning is damp. It rained during the night. The sky is a bit cloudy, but the sun is breaking through here and there. It will be a cool day, only in the high 50’s.

When I was a kid, today, a rainy Saturday, would have been a disappointment. Saturday was for roaming, not staying home looking wistfully out the window. With everybody stuck in the house, it was loud and felt filled with people. Saturday TV would have been a bit of a distraction for a while, and I’d have been glad for a book.

I heard something being dragged out the dog door earlier. I was too late to catch her, but I did go out and see Nala had a huge bag from Jack’s room. I ran upstairs, sort of. Yup, she had gotten into Jack’s room, eaten all his food and rummaged through the trash. I fed Jack and readjusted the gate to keep Nala out, maybe, then I went outside and collected the trash, a dangerous proposition as the bannister on the stairs to the yard is on the wrong side, my bad hand side, and the stairs were wet, but I navigated safely up and down.

My dance card is empty by choice. My finger still pains me. I am supposed to change the gauze, and that is a bit scary. I have to snip it off with my left hand then wrap the new gauze around my damaged finger and a bit on the finger beside it. I know there are a couple of pieces of gauze from the surgery stuck to the wound. The doctor left them as they were so painful to remove. He told me to soak the gauze to make it easy to remove. I’d cross my fingers, but that would hurt.

My father always had his food preferences. Garlic belonged only on garlic bread and scampi. Strawberry shortcake had to be made with cream of tartar biscuits, not the spongy stuff. He loved canned green beans and canned asparagus. Meat was always well done. He loved ice cream covered in Hershey’s syrup, not hot fudge. He was a man who loved his chocolate. My mother always bought him Hershey’s miniatures which he kept either on the table beside him in a bowl or hidden under the couch. Milk Crackers were a favorite snack. He’d put raspberry jam on them then carry his plate covered in crackers to the living room, settle in his couch corner, where he always sat, and watch TV. My father was such a creature of habit.