Resthome chitchat.

During my recent trip back to the city that I used to live in, I stopped through the resthome where I used to work, to say hello to people.

I visited this one (highly-introverted) resident who I used to see sometimes, and she was happy to see me, since she's thinking of making a book out of her more than six decade's worth of diaries about her dreams, including everything that was going on during her life during that time, down to the TV shows that she'd watch regularly.

(My advice: don't default to chronological ordering, but explore other ordering principles. Also, include as an appendix her original diary entries for any dreams that she references, so future readers can compare both her immediate experience and her later holistic interpretations, where she's taking stock of her life.)

"You're looking so tan and great!", she was like, too, to which I demurred, saying that I had been just having coffee outside on a patio the previous day, during a leisurely sunny afternoon.

(I didn't tell her that I compulsively use leftover lime wedges from the restaurant where I work now, to give myself treatments for highlights.)

We also started talking about jigsaw puzzles, and she said that she'd do them sometimes, and my one (skeptical) (Mexican) coworker would give her advice on how to do them more efficiently, like by grouping by color or by looking for odd edges.

(I guess she did that for many people, then, and not just me.)

. . .