Yep, All Darn Day

Mom's cherished family collection of mottoware

8:19a.m.
Scott comes into the bedroom to get dressed while I sit propped against “the cow,” reading Virginia’s diary. (The cow is Scott's name for a large wedge-shaped pillow covered by a fabric that looks like suede but isn't.)
I tease him a little. “Don’t make a mess,” I say, since I’ve recently shoved his piles of papers into binders and then into drawers. “You’re the laziest man I’ve ever seen,” I say, to the busiest guy I know. “Come and sit down a minute,” I say, patting the bed beside me. “I’ve got something important to tell you.” He perches there and I touch his arm and say, very gently, “It’s Thursday today. All day.”

And Virginia, on a Thursday?

Thurs7Jan1915
On the way I walked through one of the worst downpours I have ever been in. It was more like a shower bath than natural rain. My shoes squeaked so with wet as I walked up the Library that I was ashamed.