Oh, happy day

Yesterday was a great day, after all, even if the car dealership called me to try to discuss my situation.

Happily, I was out with the dogs when the dealer called; he only left a message and his number. Did I call back? What--are you crazy?

I don't go looking for trouble, not anymore. No, that's not accurate--I never went looking for trouble, but did bump up against it a lot thanks to the drinking and sexual confusion and all.

I know me--I'd probably end up apologizing to the dealer, promising to write a glowing review.

Wuss, thy name is Ann Louise Podolske.

But yesterday was also very productive on the work front, and I gave a ride to radiation therapy to a dear woman, too. She likes to call out the names of streets and buildings as we drive past, "Hello, Academy of Music!" "Hello Windsor Terrace!" and so forth. Charming, that.

Speaking of charming (well, perhaps that's not the word), I got a hoot out of this blog entry by Jennifer. Anyone who has ever been on a desperate bathroom quest will identify (and having lived in New York City for a decade--five of those years as an active alcoholic--I've been on a million of 'em).

And though I've been on a hiatus of sorts where recovery meetings are concerned, I went to one of those church basements yesterday, too. And it actually brightened what was left of my day.

Good to know.