Fio looked lovingly at her rock piles edging the driveway this morning and day-dreamed for a moment or two about how much fun it would be to hold a rock-gathering party so all her friends could enjoy her doughty piedras. Then it dawned on her that her friends might not the same kick out of lugging rocks around as she does. (Sigh)
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What Fiorella doesn't like doing is something she spent most of the afternoon doing--calling insurance people and investment people to ask them to change the name on Husband's accounts. Not that Fio is going to accumulate a fortune, but every centime helps.
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Is it Fio's imagination, or are the tellers at the bank smiling at her more now that she's deposited the takes on a couple of nice insurance policies?
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HIP-HOORAY! Fiorella called around town and learned she can drop her old periodicos in a recycling bin in the alley behind the local newspaper. Now if she can find someone who recycles plastic sleeves, a collection of which she has stashed in her pantry.
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Fio was holding off on donating any of Husband's clothes to charity because she was planning to go through them and mend anything that needed to be mended. She was also stalling because most of Husband's T-shirts were monogrammed and she couldn't pick out the threads. Then sheer genius bopped her on the head--embroider a few stitches over the monogram, dummy!
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