I might have strep throat. I’ll see the doctor in the morning, but since I feel as if I got hit by a truck, blogging will be minimal until I’m feeling better. Thanks.

My beloved friend died of brain cancer last Tuesday. I’d been trying to reach her for months; no one would answer the phone. I assumed she was in hospice care and didn’t want anyone to see her, since she’d told me she wasn’t thrilled about the possible dementia. By the time I found out (on Facebook), it was after the funeral. Another old friend who attended told me the church was “packed.” Well, of course it was. Eunice was smart, witty and talented. She was always volunteering for things, always putting everyone else first. She was an incredibly gifted artist, but put it on hold to raise her kids. She just sparkled. And God, did she have that Irish gift of gab! (Also for holding grudges, which I loved about her.)

She was always trying to talk me into running, like she did. “Eun, I’m a Libra,” I told her. “We don’t run. We lounge.”

The youngest was settled in college, and Eun was finally on her way to her first painting trip when she had a grand mal seizure on the plane. That’s when she was diagnosed. “Ironic, huh?” She told me she’d known something was off for the previous year, “but I thought I was going crazy, so I didn’t want to tell anybody.”

She had a wild side that I suspect most people in her suburban life never saw. She used to be a waitress at Frog, which was then the cutting edge of the Philadelphia restaurant scene. It closed down after Eunice tried to organize a union. Hah!

She was really something, our Eunie. I miss her something fierce.

I thought if I went to the supermarket at 3 p.m., everyone would still be home watching the Eagles game. I was wrong. It was even worse than a blizzard crowd, because they were buying so much more food; a lot of people had two full carts.

And then you had to stand and wait just to get your cart around a corner.

I didn’t have that much to get, but the computer went down in the first line I stood in. I finally gave up and went into another line. Same thing. I spent about an hour waiting in line. I read every issue of every junk tabloid they had and I’m glad to be home.

Dead battery, can’t be charged. Had to buy a new one — ah well, it’s been on borrowed time for a while!

My stove was out of commission for a few days, and so each morning I hied myself to the Mickey D’s to get some oatmeal.

Oh. My. God. It was really, really good, and plus, I felt virtuous. Until I read what was in it. I don’t know what “undefined cream” is, but it can’t be good. But if you’re on the road, and you want breakfast, at least you can get your morning fiber.

I’m not going to spend my life obsessing over every last thing I eat. Once in a while, things like this won’t kill me.

Because it was such a nice day, I worked on my car today.

It was long overdue, but it was so hot all summer, I couldn’t bring myself to stand out in the heat to do it. Today was just perfect – sunny, not too hot. I vacuumed, cleaned out all the trash, wiped down the cargo area, Armor-All’ed the dashboard, washed the floor mats (in the washing machine – I saw it on Pinterest!), shampooed the seats and sewed up a rip in the seat on the driver’s side.

This was fulfilling in a way that politics rarely are. Ahh!

So I’m trying to figure out where the dead mouse smell is coming from in my kitchen. It’s so bad that it even makes me sick while I’m sitting in the living room. Between the mold in my bedroom and the smell of rot in the kitchen, the only place I’m not under aerosol attack is in the bathroom. Which is relative, of course.

My friend helped me move the refrigerator and the stove yesterday, and while there was plenty of mouse shit, I couldn’t find a dead body. (I did find that mice have made themselves a nest in the stove insulation, and it’s simply inundated with their urine and droppings. Yay, nature!) My landlord is going to take the lid off the stove tomorrow, and I’m hoping that’s where the smell emanates, because it’ll be easier to clean up.

I am not looking forward to cooking a Thanksgiving meal in this stench.

Ever since the storm, I have mold growing all over the windowsill in my bedroom. Although I’m sleeping with the window open, I’m still feeling the effects of it via a daily sinus headache. (My landlord has a guy who is coming to replace it. We still have to schedule.)

And that is why I’m drinking Pepsi in the morning. Best caffeinated delivery system in the world!