Day 4: Letterbox

Or, as we colonials would say, mailbox:

4.

This isn't the mailbox that was here when we bought the house: that one got trashed by someone driving by who thought smashing in a mailbox would be a fun thing to do.  Have I mentioned lately that I'm a total misanthrope?  OK, maybe not total: but a species that brings forth such specimens as the person who stove in our mailbox for fun and also Rick Santorum?  Hard to like.

Okaaaay.  Interesting what these photos inspire me to write!

Got my exercise today walking around a big shopping mall - because when you quit your job and stop having an income, don't you want to go to a place for which the entire purpose is to part you from your money?  Got some beautifying products, but at this point the wrinkly bags under my eyes are a lost cause.  Stopped in a sports-fan store and listened at length to a salesguy there talking about the Bulls, which, hello, interesting, and who am I again???  Didn't buy anything, so yay me.  Got some groceries on the way home, including FRESH GREENS.  To try to keep myself from being the Vegetarian Who Doesn't Eat Any Vegetables.

Did I mention I got a ticket to yet another Bulls game, this one on March 17th?  That would have been our 12th wedding anniversary.  Choices: stay at home by myself, or sit cheering on a bunch of attractive young men with 20,000+ of my closest friends?  No-brainer, I'm relieved to say.

Finally: my eyes were swollen and slightly crusty (sorry, TMI) this morning when I woke up.  Lots and lots and LOTS of crying will do that to you, I guess.  Man.  This is just not what I expected a year and a half later.  I remember reading somewhere that Paul McCartney said he cried every day for a year after Linda died.  He didn't say "That year started after I got off the antidepressants."

I wonder what's in store for me this year.