...Mums is not. We've been hitting the gym every day (after Mums gets out of her kickboxing classes and does over two hundred pushups and walks on the treadmill in our former dining room for an hour or so). I'll bounce on the elliptical for half to three quarters of an hour and then head to the exercise bike and thence to various machines for arm strengthening. I'm usually oblivious to my surroundings until the arm workouts, because I'm anesthetizing myself with a book, but at that point I can't hold onto my reading, and am aware of the assortment of pudgy middle-aged men and young jocks in the room. Wee little Mums'll be over at the free weights, cheerfully curling a pair of 40-lb. barbells, or doing unaided pullups on a rack, her back muscles rippling. I hope I'm such fantastic condition when her age. Heck, I wish I could be half that lean and cut now. Frankly, though, I'm too lazy to put in the time, or the crunches, though I do envy her her eight-pack abs.
The probate of Daddy's will took all of about five minutes. We waited for about half an hour for the snow-haired clerk or judge or whatever she was (her secretary was too busy chatting to inform her that we'd arrived) to usher us back into a room framed with pictures of historical landmarks and ask Mums to swear that no, Daddy hadn't divorced her since his will was made six years ago, and no, he didn't have any other children other than us four living ones. Our family lawyer and the judge were both fine old Southern bluebloods, with soft patrician accents that have long been heard in the halls of the mighty hereabouts (and which notoriously can be used to such devastatingly mean, sarcastic effect on those deemed to have transgressed), so the proceedings, brief as they were, had an air of timeless propriety.
I had to get a new cell phone this afternoon. The old one died on the drive back from DC Wednesday, and upon examination it was found that damp had corroded the interior. As I had not dropped the thing in any puddles or dowsed it with liquid, I could only surmise that the DC humidity had done it in (with which hypothesis the Verizon clerk agreed). Thankfully, with rebate the new phone only cost $20. It has a little QWERTY keyboard inside for texting, and I think a low-resolution camera somewhere aboard. I hope it lasts longer than its predecessor, which I obtained less than a year ago. Mums jokes that she's going to be permanently indentured to Verizon, since every time one of us has an issue with his or her phone, the contract is extended two years from the service change date.
I plan to be back in DC August 20. Tomorrow, Mums wants me to help her pick out colors for her new condo (we spent time today at Lowes looking at paint for the house, since we've got to get rid of all the wallpaper and replace it with neutral tones in order to get the place ready to sell), and then Sunday afternoon we intend to drive to my brother's in Charleston. He, of course, has not called to acknowledge our imminent advent, but we figure we'll camp out on his front lawn until he gets home from evening church and then waylay him on his way to the door.