All Thrown Together

 Don't hold your breath, but, if things go right,  Fiorella will be trading in her ten-year-old Mercedes for a two-year-old, less pretentious automobile. The twenty-two-year-old Miata sold yesterday. 

Again, don't hold your breath, but it looks like the balcony can be repaired for 8K rather than 22K. Fio, of course, would prefer a single wave of a magic wand, but--sigh---this is not a magic world. In the meantime, Fiorella will continue to pinch pennies and pray.

There is no other word but BIZARRE to describe the post-election Trump. Why won't he give a bow and leave the stage gracefully? His time is past.

Fio spent most of her day at Mazda, selling her ten-year-old Mercedes and buying a red, hot, two-year-old four-door. She also visited with her long-time pals, the guys who took such good care of her and her beloved Baby Car. Now comes the hard part--learning how to drive a car that is so different from anything she has ever been behind the wheel of before. Pray for Fiorella. 

The time has come, your Fio said/ To put to right the kitchen cabinet doors/ And call the maid to mop the floors.