Nice ordinary Sunday morning. Watering the plants, I thought about going to the nursery. I want to add a couple of plants, and repot another, and need potting soil and stuff. Common sense says do it Monday so I can put the car away the same day. But it was 9am on a lovely Sunday morning, so heck, I decided to go.
I haven’t mentioned the rigamarole of getting the car out. In order to completely isolate the COVID area from the rest of the facility, they had to close off the basement passage that I used to take to reach the car in the Lee Center garage. There’s also a ground-level door to a stairway to the garage, but for security, that door has to be kept locked. So to get the car, I go first to the front desk and ask for a Lee garage key. The receptionist notes my room number in a log and hands me a yardstick with a single key in a ring at the end. I take this and follow blue tape arrows through the dining room (chairs and tables all piled up for storage because we don’t eat there any more), across the back patio, and use the key to unlock the stairway door. Inside that door I hang the yardstick and key on a hook on the wall (somebody from Facilities comes around periodically and moves the keys back to the desk) and go down the stairs to the garage.
When I put the car away in the garage on Monday, I will exit that garage through a different door, one that opens to the street, so I can come around and reenter the building through our “single point of entry” and wash my hands and have my temperature checked.
Well, off to the nursery. It was busy, though not crowded, and almost everybody had masks on. I frowned at one guy who didn’t, but later he had one on. Earlier he had chin-strapped it to talk on the phone. Why do people think they can’t talk on the phone through a mask?
I bought a bag of soil, a couple of plants, a couple of pots and trotted on home where I gardened for an hour. I had to get rid of a healthy plant, a Heuchera. It was growing well but it was infested with tiny little white flies. It had annoyed me anyway, so I didn’t mourn when it went to the trash. I now have three fuchsias of different varieties in largish pots and look forward to seeing how they do. According to the little info card on one of them, it grows to 10 feet. I figure I will just keep cutting it back, holding it to about 3 foot max. Maybe that will kill it, but I bet it will be just fine.
The cue for the upcoming CH Writers’ meet is “every day” — whatever that phrase means to you. Hah! What does “every day” mean to me, aside from natural body functions (which was the first thing to pop into my mind, gotta be real), is this blog. I have written a nice little essay about why I started it, and why I decided to do a personal journal as a public blog. Why not a private journal, a text file that only I would ever see? (Like a normal person.)
For entertainment I watched Josie and the Pussycats oh yes I did. One of the bloggers that I follow had recommended it and it was on my TV box free, so sure. It was worth every penny, silly but fun.