Mr. O'Quilts is out playing tennis. The postman just came...how did he know:) As you know, the upstairs office is on a budget. I have explained to him that my recovery depends on therapy...fabric therapy. I also suggested that it is miniscule...mere pittance...compared to the gas I could have been using these past SEVEN weeks. I always got A's in my logic classes.
AND, tonight I had the energy to make Mom's meatloaf...I mean..such savings...we did not have to have Monday pizza again this week.
I have company in the downstairs office...they understand..
In the sweetest of ways, Mr. O'Quilts mentioned that since I cannot work and this is lasting much longer than we had imagined...that we are now short one income. It must be that the diplomas in the upstairs office are from a different school than those here in the downstairs office(:
