Long day....

My day began an hour early. Perhaps not a full hour; when I'm planning on getting up at eight-thirty I tend to wake up a little earlier, and then go back to sleep. But Dad yelled up the stairs at seven-thirty, which is far too early. I think I actually got up nearer eight, though. My alarm clock went off some time after I'd eaten; I believe Peter was milking, and I was sitting on the couch waiting for devotions and realizing that I could've gotten up at my usual time and still have dressed, eaten, etc. by the time everyone else was ready. Sigh.

Then I went on an appliance call with Dad. Peter and Doug were busy, and Owen needed a shower, so I was elected. I have no idea how useful I would've been, but in the event this was not tested. We drove to Panama. We found the place. Dad had me call Owen to get the customers' numbers, in order to ascertain that it was the right house, as there were no visible house numbers. Repeat, until Owen gives the right number. Nobody answers. Dad calls Owen and asks him to get the VOICE News and look up the number for their offices. The owners are not at the office, but the lady who answers the telephone is able to confirm that the beige Mediterranean-style house does indeed belong to the Managing and Advertising editors. So we go and knock, somewhat half-heartedly, and Dad begins trying doors: the front door, the garage door, and the French doors all along the southern side of the house. None have been left unlocked for the scheduled repairman. We left.

At the end of the drive we switched places for a driving lesson. Turning onto the Firth road, I give Dad a heart attack, and most of the drive home is spent practicing left turns. Sigh. So I was late to Jim's.

Jim is expecting his son next week, so there was some extra cleaning to be done. He, meantime, was moving car parts off the living room floor, since the new garage is completed (with the exception of some wiring and the insulation.) This I appreciate, since it's a little hard to vacuum around chunks of engine. There was no such difficulty in vacuuming the guest room, which seems to be where the sci-fi is shelved. The Westerns are mostly in the den.

After that B and Darrel came and got me, so I could try to renew my learner's permit in Beatrice. Unfortunately, as it turned out, I needed to see the tester to accomplish this, and I needed my birth certificate, etc. all over again, so that was a wash-out. I had to sit outside the courthouse and wait for them to get back from picking up a prescription for awhile. It was lovely weather, though, and fortunately none of the employees were on break, so I had the little cement table to myself. We went back to the house to wait for Shane's parents to come get him. Then Darrel took B and me to the Salvation Army. I got lucky: a Terry Pratchett. And we went in the convertible--B splurged on a red Chrysler Sebring. I think that was my first ride in a convertible, but I have a little trouble along the lines of "And they bought this why?" Oh, well, B's spending isn't my problem, thank goodness.

And tomorrow, license unrenewed, Mom and Lark and I are driving to Colorado. (Er, Lark isn't actually going to help with the driving.)