Sad in a way, but 90, so there you go.
Choir is done. Now Pat is going to drive me to the library to return some books.
I hate to be trite, but he did live a good, full life, so 90 years would have provided a lot of memories. And the Bahamas is as pleasant a place to die in as any, I guess.
I’m going to make a meat loaf and wait for the mail. I’ll probably take the trash out, as well, though this is a day when The Punies want to visit. I suspected they weren’t far away, by the symptoms I’ve been having, so I’ll just take it as easy as I can. There’s that doctor’s appointment, looming, on Monday.