Doing better--but abandoned

I'm trying to elicit sympathy because Glenn abandoned me to go to San Diego for the week. It isn't as though I didn't abandon him on a regular basis. But this is different. I'M the abandoned one! I'm remembering what it is I didn't like about living alone. Chores don't get magically taken care of. There's no one to leave the light on for when I get home in the evening. I have the run of the house, but it isn't that much fun.
I'm feeling somewhat less pathetic. Today was a downtown day, and I managed to get there and back without succumbing to the tempting wiles of Mrs. Fields. The worst tragedy of the day was a broken fingernail--but broken way down on the index finger of my bowing hand--that's the one that gets to have fingernails. So here's this stubby little thing on an otherwise grown-up hand. The nails on my left, or fingering, hand, that need to be short to play the violin, are longer than this little amputee. Like my hair, it will grow. And my hair is growing. The crown is standing up like a wheat field, bending one way or the other depending on which hat I wear. The sides are growing out and I can see my wave is still there. The back has a little more curl. It still isn't long enough to do anything with, but when I want to play big girl I can run a comb through it.
The church Thanksgiving Dinner and Talent show is coming up. The Ceili band (Anne and the Bethany Brawlers) is working up a few numbers. We practiced a little tonight. The tunes are still in my fingers but we need to work on speed. We aren't playing for dancers, so we don't need to play as fast as I do over Labor Day weekend, but still, it's Irish music and needs some zip.
I'm up to the eighth Anna Pigeon mystery. Once I get into those, I really don't want to do much else--so I'm now off to read for the evening.
xxooxx