MOST FRIDAYS ARE GOOD FRIDAYS TO ME

Like the Dowager Countess in Dowwnton Abbey, I know not of weekends. As I mentioned before, this enforced idleness plays to my strengths. Yesterday I finished a new story for a murder mystery short story contest. I submitted it also for an anthology of New England short stories, since I set it in Boston, where I grew up. While the story is totally fiction, I used some characteristics of my parents and a house we all lived in. It totally freaked my siblings out.

I had the idea for an OUTRAGEOUS NECKLACE PARTY with wine and cheese, because Zoom, where the party would be, only gives a little square to each participant. Just enough of a view for some good lipstick and a necklace. 

We were supposed to have it, tonight right about now (6pm, Pacific) but Tuesday I whacked myself in the face on a metal chairback while organizing things for recycling. No good deed, right? When I Face Timed with one of my friends, she was so shocked. "I thought you were just vain," she said, admiring my racoonish visage. I had no idea that I bent over with such velocity. I have new respect for my own strength.