Oh, to be me!

Every once in a while, in a fit of righteous indignation, I attempt to tighten the security protocols on our home computers. This is almost always a mistake. It is a mistake because it is myself who is primarily hindered by the ensuing regulations. Take, for example, right now. It just took me numerous attempts, and several passwords, to access my personal blog. 

My goal is to prevent offensive material, and to block the freaky game sites that potentially highjack the sanctity of our cookie-thingy, and also to monitor the kids as they traipse about online. My reality is a cumbersome personal computer experience that leaves me grumpy and uninspired. What was I going to write about in the first place? No idea.

You'll be happy to learn that I scandalized fewer people today while visiting my son. This is an improvement over last week's shameful immodest foray into the shady role of adolescent temptress.

Tim and I are in the habit of running a myriad of errands on Saturdays. It's rather dreary, truth be told. It always begins with vibrant enthusiasm, as we set off to accomplish the banking and grocery shopping for the week ahead. I'm good for an hour of that, maybe two. He likes to comb the newspaper ads for the best deals, and then to venture forth to every! store! in! town! I would merrily pay double if it meant one stop shopping, and an afternoon at home.
We typically run a few errands in the morning, go visit with Don, and then finish our rounds in the afternoon.
By the time we get home, I find that I very much need a cup of coffee for the uplift of my energy level, and a glass of wine for my frazzled nerves. Such a combination would likely cancel out each benefit, and would make me unbearably tired, yet unable to sleep. That would not be welcome.

One good thing about Tim, besides his thrifty shopping habits, is that fact that he cooks dinner at every opportunity. Here I am complaining about my Saturday lot in life, and he is slaving away over a hot stove downstairs. Bless him.

Tim got glasses today. This was an act of miraculous proportion, simply because the man is opposed to visiting physicians of any kind, unless under the most severe duress. (Like Monday, when he rushed to the doc-in-the-box for stitches after slicing his hand open at work). (He's fine).  He doesn't like to sit still long enough to be examined, he finds the appointment itself to be an intolerable inconvenience, and he abhors the spending of money.
He cannot see, but what's that to him? The dollar store sells reading glasses that do the job nicely. Mostly.
He really needs something that will perch atop his nose, and therefore be readily accessible when something demands a close scrutiny. I advised bifocals, as did the doctor. Tim was persuaded that insurance (which he already has paid for) and a good sale, were motivation enough to visit the Optometrist, and thence to follow said recommendations. He is now the proud owner of a fine pair of Oakley bifocals.
This accomplished, I feel that I have done my work for the day.
Now that I have also blogged, I am nearly delirious with the personal satisfaction. Perhaps I should quit doing things, before it goes entirely to my head.