Is it Saturday already? What happened to Friday? It was jam-packed with work and meetings, and it went by in a blur of faces and forms and phone calls. By 10 o'clock last night, as our guest was making his good-byes, I realized that Friday had been sucked into the gaping maw of another week.

And here it is. Saturday. I was up in the wee hours of the night dealing with a tachycardia episode, but all is calm now, if not bright. Overcast and cool in June. Traditional weather for a bit. How nice.

These cardiac events always leave me feeling washed out and weak, so after visiting Trader Joe's I'll call N and with any luck at all I'll be able to take a nap instead of driving 20 miles to the VA, visit, then drive the 20 miles back. Maybe he'll agree to an afternoon visit.

While I've been away at work, the tomatoes have been busy growing. They're four feet tall now, loaded with flowers, and we've even harvested the first two early fruits. If the weather doesn't turn hot too soon, we'll likely get a nice harvest this year. Grow, little tomatoes, grow!

The new brick work around the olive tree is paid for and it looks like the other tenant will start paying rent next month, instead of working it off by repair and cleaning and hauling trash. A little extra cash will help pay off that last bill. Yay!

N has used financial transactions--demanding a weekly accounting every time I see him--because he's helped pay off what we owed. I explain and I explain, but he no longer understands even a simple bank statement. He keeps asking what happened to the money--even months later.

I am looking forward to the time when we get past this, yes I am. I don't like being jerked around by demands based on his contributions, especially when it's been enumerated over and over. I don't want to have to answer to anybody but my own bookkeeping, particularly when it's by demand (you owe me an answer because I contributed), not by cooperative effort (let's work on this together).

He will no doubt try to play this one for years to come (you don't tell me what's going on, a constant refrain).