A spider has already begun building a web from the driver side rearview mirror of my car to a nearby tree. I'm waiting for my Serbian coworker to come unlock the house, whence I'm picking up a pile of personal documents and schlepping them to a shredder in Gaithersburg. She's one of those dastardly early-morning people, and told me she'd be here by 11. I decided to go against my usual proclivities and show up exactly on time. Which I did. And nobody was here. Ten minutes later I got a text from her saying that she wasn't yet there and she would call when she arrived. At 10 till noon, I texted her, and she swore she'd arrive by twelve. We shall see.
After the shredder, I intend to go by Harbor Freight for several jumbo packs of their blue painters tape--they have it for less than half the price of the local hardware store, and we use tons of it to price items in every sale. Then, the happiest part of my errand running: a visit to the bakery I love, where the apple turnovers are the size of romance novels, and where they may actually have pastries featuring sweet poppyseeds. I have been in severe withdrawal ever since coming back from the Czech Republic – why don't American grocery stores have decent bakery sections? A few stale donuts and a couple of limp baguettes does not an acceptable bakery make. And everything is so preserved; walking down the aisles is like walking down rows in an ossuary–all lined with colorful cremain boxes of artificial ingredient-rich instant meals. Ick.