Postcard of the Day
November 7th, 2019
My typewriter is fixed.
Chuck fixed it. He's the typewriter fix-it guy. Its belt's days are number, though, and you can't buy replacement ones, so I may pick up another typewriter like this one if I can find one cheap, just to have an extra. But he oiled it up good, so it may last a while, especially if I don't use the typewriter a lot (and I don't).
The painting I wanted isn't as negotiable as I need it to be, alas. So I'm getting a canvas print instead. Should still be pretty nice, but not like having the real painting, of course.
We had our department lunch today. So I have leftover good mac 'n' Ig-Vella-cheese to take home.
Yesterday kicked my ass, with a confluence of health stuff. Such is life sometimes, however. I'm still goin', at least.
Guess that's it for now. Mostly I wanted to say my typewriter's fixed, to fix it in my mind to go pick it up this weekend. And then I'll write Eddie, finally.
The painting I wanted isn't as negotiable as I need it to be, alas. So I'm getting a canvas print instead. Should still be pretty nice, but not like having the real painting, of course.
We had our department lunch today. So I have leftover good mac 'n' Ig-Vella-cheese to take home.
Yesterday kicked my ass, with a confluence of health stuff. Such is life sometimes, however. I'm still goin', at least.
Guess that's it for now. Mostly I wanted to say my typewriter's fixed, to fix it in my mind to go pick it up this weekend. And then I'll write Eddie, finally.
