I suppose I'm not insulted that I have no imagination. When we were kids and our father wanted us to paint with oils a whole lot I had great trouble coming up with something to paint. No imagination. When we would drive around the Illinois countryside Sunday afternoons with my mother and our drawing pads I could find things to draw, there were landscapes all around me. Mostly it was silos and farmhouses, though.

I'm stumbling about these days, fussing through the charges brought against me. Have met with my union rep, who says we wouldn't meet with them on the 15th, as they have demanded. "Why would we? It's not part of the grievance process and there's nothing they'd say. They'd just get you riled up." So that's a relief and also means I can keep my 9:00 appointment to have my chimney cleaned. Naturally I keep thinking about the things the director and her attorney are saying I thought and did, wondering if there's a kernel of truth to any of it--yes, I did speak loudly, and maybe I did say fuck, but she called someone fuckface repeatedly, and called me "fucking brilliant" at one point, so apparently some people get to say it and some people don't. Most of the things she's saying make me incompetent and bad are things that other people do or did at the same time I did, which I guess is my only defense: that others do the same thing and don't get punished. I hate it all.

But I had my closing and the mortgage is now in my name. The debt is mine, all mine. Only a 15 year note, not intimidating. Funding doesn't come through until tomorrow, apparently, but my first mortgage payment isn't due until February. If that can really be true. That's what it said on the paper I signed. That means I have several hundred dollars coming with nothing to commit it to. And Christmas is coming. This is a first for me. I can't believe my good fortune. And I don't believe my good fortune so I'm not spending much.

It was zero the other night, cold enough to be called winter. And there's plenty of snow at my house. I finally put my lawn mower in the shed, it's winter home at the bottom of my hill. Pushing a lawn mower through 4" of snow is really, really the pits. It just doesn't go. Note to self: don't let that happen again. Put it away BEFORE it snows. I bought a bottle of $20 champagne for Sunday dinner to celebrate my closing. That was fun.

Ken had been having trouble with his foot, it was swollen, painful and worrisome. He collected pieces of advice, I offered to take him to the emergency room, contemplated that this could be the beginning of the end, a circulatory problem, etc. He soaked it in epsom salts, finally took off his socks to show his nephew how much more swollen the right foot was than the left foot. Nephew number two looked inside his boot and discovered that there was a fork in it, unbeknownst to Ken. Guess that explains the discomfort, huh. Ken of course blamed my dogs, saying the carried a fork from the floor by the sink, where we must have dropped it, over to his boot and dropped it in there. Fat chance, say I, but who's going to argue with him. Now all he says is "But you know you can't listen to a man who walks around with a fork in his boot." I'm just relieved that there's nothing wrong with him.

Tonight is book group. Jacob have I loved is the book. A young adult book about a twin sister who always resented what her sister the singing star got. Can't say I can relate to that, fortunately. My sister DID get the pretty pink curtains in her room on Rome Avenue, but her rat chewed them and then they weren't quite as pretty. Besides, I never liked pink. I hated my room, though, but someone has to have the icky room, and when we moved to the next house I got a nice room.

Yucky weather, just as it should be in December. Can't complain. Saw Dr. Rubin today. He's worried about me because I'm being treated so poorly at work. Thinks I should consult with a lawyer and investigate charges of hostile work environment. I looked into this before but the laws are pretty specific about how badly you have to be treated. He says this situation is doing real damage to me. swell. I'm gaining weight, this much I know. I just read results of a study that says if you get 6 or fewer hours of sleep at night you're more likely to be obese. And there I am, getting 4-5 hrs. a night. hmmm.