I declared a work stoppage today to rest my back, which is sore but not in a way that worries me. The stairs specialist arrived when I was still in my nightie with my hair on end and a cup of coffee in my hand, and proceeded to measure the stairs and make paper patterns while telling me about his dare-devil military friends — a bit of a gushing fan-boy. I don’t care about his fantasy life, just the stairs and getting the blasted broadloom off them. I found him amusing, however. Also easy on the eyes.
This afternoon I visited my “money guy” — aka “financial advisor” but actually stockbroker. Under Canadian law, this is the year when I must convert my Registered Retirement Savings Plan to a Registered Retirement Income Fund and start drawing an annual percentage of the savings Edmund and I worked for decades to accumulate. I live very comfortably on my pension, so I guess it’s time to plan that Rhine River cruise I have been considering lo! this long time. (I get miserably seasick in any vessel that traverses a body of water big enough to allow passengers to see the horizon. I should be okay on a river.)
It’s only 7:30, but I’m bushed. I’ll finish tidying up the contents of my chest of drawers, which were churned by careless and sometimes downright violent handling by the movers, and then just go to bed.