The phone rang a little after 8:00 am this morning, just as I finished my coffee, and Moe from PG&E asked if he could come in to light our oven in about thirty minutes instead of later this afternoon. Absolutely! I threw on some clothes, went in to notify Michael, who was still sleeping, did some quick cleaning in the kitchen. Moe rang the doorbell almost a half hour later to the minute, the cat growled, and Michael emerged dressed from the shower just in time to let him in. Moe was young and black and friendly, most of his face hidden behind his mask, and he was in and out within fifteen minutes. We celebrated with roasted potatoes, and the apartment smelled gloriously of cooked garlic as they sizzled in their pans in a fully heated oven. Looks like chicken pot pie for dinner this weekend.

The potatoes are sprouting and need to be used up, as are the garlic heads — the problem with buying in bulk. The carrots are holding their own. I’m taking a leaf from my grandmother’s book and keeping carrot and celery sticks in a glass full of salted water in the fridge. Excellent dipped in the artichoke spread. Later today, while going out for our prescriptions, Michael plans to pick up a crab salad at Swan’s, the sea-food joint on Polk that, in normal times, has a permanent long line of people waiting to go in. I’ve never had their crab salad — in fact, in spite of living just three blocks away from that semi-famous tourist draw, I don’t believe I’ve ever had anything from Swan’s.

Looking out at a mist of rain over the city. Something inside me insists on asking, “will it affect attendance at the event tonight?” even though the event will be on Zoom.