The winter solstice, huzzah. One memory I retain from childhood was that my mother always noted the solstices. “December 21st, the days will start getting longer,” she’d say, with the clear suggestion of warmth, light, spring, to come. Of course, it’s a more meaningful turnover at the latitude of Tacoma, where winter days are significantly (and depressingly) shorter than here at the latitude of SF.
Post-breakfast the next scheduled thing was lunch with Scott at 1pm. What to do in the meantime? Well, I’d recently had an email from the Stanford Blood Center, my O+ type was in short supply. So I drove around to the donation center and donated. It’s actually close enough, only a couple of blocks off the route of my usual run, that I could walk there. But then I’d have to walk back while short a pint of red cells. I don’t think so.
I was pleased by my vitals: BP 105/63, pulse 60, hemoglobin 15.3, temp 97.79.
From there I came around to the T-Mobile store on University. Here’s an oddity: when I checked before departure, using Google maps on the laptop, it assured me there was a T-Mobile store there. But when I looked on the phone using Apple maps as I walked up University, Apple Maps didn’t know about it. Fortunately Google was right this time.
My desire was to switch the account so that the phone I always carry, ending in 1986, would be the primary, and the -3645 number, which I loaned to Jean, the secondary. When I first created the account (about ten years ago?), -3645 was my only cell phone, and -1986 was the land-line to our house. Two years ago I killed the land-line and moved the number to a cell, which was added as the second line on the account.
Problem is, when I try to log in to my T-Mobile account, it wants to send a TFA text to -3645, which is useless because that phone is at Jean’s house. The chap at the store said he could fix that, went away to the back, came back to verify which number should be which, went away, came back and said it was alright, I’d just have to “enter my PIN” when I logged in next, by which I assumed he meant the code sent by text.
So I just tried it; it says “there’s no primary account holder, enter the PIN you got at the store.” Fortunately it also was willing to take the last four digits of my SSN. And it still shows -3645 as primary and -1986 as “other line”. And it still doesn’t send a text to -1986. I assume a text showed up on -3645 causing Jean to wonder, if she even notices. (Later I got a text with a number I assume was the PIN. Later still, I tried logging in again; there’s no change. Looks like I’m stuck with -3645 as the main.)
Lunch with Scott was fun as always, and we tried Georgian food. I had a monster cheese boat, which the waiter should have advised was really meant as a shared dish.
Dinner was the Webster Street Grille reservation organized by Patty, featuring me, David and Helen Golden, and David and Mary Sue (I think?) Thornton. Three Davids. Lots of pleasant conversation, except that I was depressed to find that almost everyone at the table believed that Saunders and Warren are unelectable and only Biden could beat Trump. Post-traumatic stress of the Boris Johnson win in the UK.