Driving in the rain

Someone posted on Facebook a link to a story that says Larry McMurtry, age 76, is getting rid of most of his enormous collection of books, and won't write fiction any more. I hate to see someone give up at such an early age. Seriously, "age" is "becoming my concern of late" (R. Frost). I'm trying to wash all my dirty laundry and throw away the rags--which won't leave me much laundry to worry about. But I'm not giving up much else, certainly not my scribbling.

Wish I could give up driving. Mama gave it up at age 65, and we spent the next 25 years driving her around wherever she commanded. When I lived in Montgomery and Selma and Birmingham, I would come to Leeds almost every weekend and take her to the grocery store and TG&Y or TJ Maxx. When I lived on Oak Trail for seven years, I would go to her apartment after work almost every day to watch Magnum PI with her and play Scrabble. I miss Mama.

But I can't give up driving. I've got a Clinic appointment on Thursday for my annual checkup, which of course I dread like--like I-don't-know-what. Driving in the daytime isn't really a problem, except that when I've got one of these pesky medical appointments, I get nervouser and nervouser. And when it's time to drive to Birmingham, I'm so keyed up I can't see straight. And there's always a rainstorm when I'm driving home.

I've been canceling appointments all this year, so I reckon I'll go this time.