Last week I gave a tour at the museum where I scan, and dressed up a pair of black jeans for just the afternoon. I had another tour yesterday and was looking for the jeans, but figured they must be hanging in the laundry room so got out a black pair of culotte-style ankle-length slacks. When I got home I thought - I'll wear them again next Sunday, turned to drape them over the back of the Mission rocker, and there were the black jeans. Maybe before the tour next week I'll remember where the black pants are.

The yard is soggy and lots of tall weeds in the garden again. I'll head out with the trimmer later when the heat has dried the grass some.

Until then, I have work to do, but I started reading E. Jean Carroll's Not My Type and am instead going to read for a while. There's a truism about not pissing off a writer, and she's a heckuva writer. Her best revenge against Trump is this book. It will hurt his ego more than the millions she was awarded. It doesn't feel like being steeped in Trump stuff, it's about her and the effect he had on her life, but what a life! I read a review that said it's worthwhile getting the audiobook because she read it, and I enjoyed her discussion of why she decided to narrate herself. I'm reading now and when the audiobook comes through from the library I'll switch over.