WET TUESDAY

But only of course for those outdoors having a picnic tonight on the lawn at Tanglewood in Lenox while waiting for the Boston Symphony Orchestra to strike up. My Big Night Out. Accompanied by Tory (She Who Loans Me Cars) and the delightful Solloway clan from Walberswick, overnighting in Stockbridge en route to Lake Placid from Nantucket. Skies darkened at 7:10, we took cover ten minutes later when the thunder and lightning began, crowding into the back aisle of the open sided Koussivitsky Music Shed (I use the term shed loosely, it's a concert hall that seats about 5,000) but got soaked from the splashes. I have never seen rain like this. Stood for 3 hours thinking this little "mountain storm" would  pass. Nope. Relentless. Left at the interval. No umbrellas, no rain slickers. Hair looked nice. Drove home to find Bonnie still here (10:45) even though I had asked her to stay only until 8:00. I think she was scared to leave Peg on her own.

Not me. 
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STAFF ON CALL TODAY: Bonnie and Outside Bob, who pissed Peg off by opening a can of tuna from the pantry for lunch when there was salami in the fridge.
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Took Peg to Tina the Hairdressers and while she was being washed and blow dried (have finally talked her out of the tight curled old lady look she favours) I raced across town to Price Chopper, Rite Aid to pick up Peg's Neurontin, which I now see we have tons of so don't know who ordered more or indeed know what this medication is precisely for (or care), got gas, then got Peg back into the car, and then Tina, who wanted to point out to Peg some house near hers in Pittsfield for sale that has an "inlaw annex". 

There would seem to be a general assumption that now that Daddy is gone, Peg will be moving. Got a letter from an Ann Spadafora today, a local realtor. Sniffing round seeing if I'm putting the house on the market. I probably should have the place valued at some point. I guess. I don't know. I'm so tired of dealing with the house and all it contains I feel like selling it as is, tomorrow, complete with furniture, appliances, 10,000 comedy scripts, and a ninety-seven year old nodding off at the butcher block. The thing is, Peg probably wouldn't mind, she makes friends so easily. Plus I'd leave catheter bag instructions and where to find the Fixodent. And maybe a pencil so they could help fill out that eight page Norwegian Pension Spouse Form that took up most of the afternoon to decipher even though I know she'll never get a kroner from them because she doesn't live there and never worked there and Daddy was a US citizen and so why bother---but you never know, do you, and every little cent helps. All I need to do now is to persuade Peg to stop buying 3 rotisserie chickens every week to leave rotting in the fridge and we'd be away to the races.