CollaredPika of Bliss
Apr. 22nd, 2020 10:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ismoI'm in one of those phases where I have lots of thoughts but never write anything down. Possibly it is the very abundance of thoughts that makes it hard to focus on one and pin it down. I'm grateful for weather events because they provide something that's easy to talk about. Last night as I was getting into bed, I heard the rattly-tickitty sound of precipitation that's frozen but not snow. In the morning there was a thin layer of white stuff over all. But it melted away by the time I actually got up.
Last night, the Sparrowhawk made spaghetti and tomato sauce, which he likes. I FORGOT that I can't eat this stuff. I was hungry, so I chowed down. And a couple of hours later I experienced the internal blowtorch of doom. It was horrible. I chewed Tums and ate a small amount of vanilla ice cream to soothe my poor throat. I knew from experience that I'd be sorry if I tried to sleep lying down, so I propped myself up with all the pillows. Reclining at such an angle makes my hips hurt. Fortunately, I didn't have any more acid reflux events, but my joints hurt, and my stomach hurt, and I was anxious, so not sleeping well. That was even before I got stuck in an old rusty elevator that had been built for middle school students, so it had no buttons on the inside. I woke myself up yelling HELLO LET ME OUT with all my might. Wonder what that was all about . . . I certainly think it is very wrong not to let middle school students have an EXIT button. Much less me, an adult human being who is quite capable of selecting her own destination level.
I was just tired of moping, so I waited for the pain to subside and then cleaned up the kitchen mess left over from the spaghetti debacle of the night before. I put my laundry in and made oatmeal for breakfast. It was spitting wintry mix again. When it stopped for a minute, I thought I'd better go out for a walk. I didn't quite make it back before the rain/ice started again, but it wasn't bad. I made some lentil soup for supper, with carrots, an onion, celery, parsley, and some leftover chopped cabbage from an earlier meal. We also had some good chicken stock to put in it. Queenie got the gift-wrapped linden-scented soap I sent her for her birthday. Dr. Nurse got home safe and sound on Monday, and fortuitously, the back-ordered package of Easter chocolate that we sent for Mr. Dr. Nurse arrived yesterday--their anniversary! So they got to enjoy it together. These are all good things.
Is today Wednesday? It is, isn't it? I read so slowly these days. I finally finished off "Italian Days" by Barbara Grizzuti Harrison. It's a lovely fat travel diary that ends on a bittersweet, unresolved note. I'm making good progress with "The Secret History of the World" by Mark Booth, which I've decided is kind of a silly book, but it has occasional interesting bits. There's a meme going around where you add " . . . With A Chainsaw" to the title of the last book you read. "Italian Days with a Chainsaw" sounds exciting, and so does "The Secret History of the World with a Chainsaw." I started reading another travel book, Jedidiah Jenkins' "To Shake the Sleeping Self," in which he rides a bicycle the length of the Americas. "To Shake the Sleeping Self with a Chainsaw" would be a novel method of achieving enlightenment. I don't plan to try it. In fact, I'd rather not shake my sleeping self! If I ever manage to sleep again, any guru who has the temerity to poke me will get his head smacked with extreme prejudice.
Last night, the Sparrowhawk made spaghetti and tomato sauce, which he likes. I FORGOT that I can't eat this stuff. I was hungry, so I chowed down. And a couple of hours later I experienced the internal blowtorch of doom. It was horrible. I chewed Tums and ate a small amount of vanilla ice cream to soothe my poor throat. I knew from experience that I'd be sorry if I tried to sleep lying down, so I propped myself up with all the pillows. Reclining at such an angle makes my hips hurt. Fortunately, I didn't have any more acid reflux events, but my joints hurt, and my stomach hurt, and I was anxious, so not sleeping well. That was even before I got stuck in an old rusty elevator that had been built for middle school students, so it had no buttons on the inside. I woke myself up yelling HELLO LET ME OUT with all my might. Wonder what that was all about . . . I certainly think it is very wrong not to let middle school students have an EXIT button. Much less me, an adult human being who is quite capable of selecting her own destination level.
I was just tired of moping, so I waited for the pain to subside and then cleaned up the kitchen mess left over from the spaghetti debacle of the night before. I put my laundry in and made oatmeal for breakfast. It was spitting wintry mix again. When it stopped for a minute, I thought I'd better go out for a walk. I didn't quite make it back before the rain/ice started again, but it wasn't bad. I made some lentil soup for supper, with carrots, an onion, celery, parsley, and some leftover chopped cabbage from an earlier meal. We also had some good chicken stock to put in it. Queenie got the gift-wrapped linden-scented soap I sent her for her birthday. Dr. Nurse got home safe and sound on Monday, and fortuitously, the back-ordered package of Easter chocolate that we sent for Mr. Dr. Nurse arrived yesterday--their anniversary! So they got to enjoy it together. These are all good things.
Is today Wednesday? It is, isn't it? I read so slowly these days. I finally finished off "Italian Days" by Barbara Grizzuti Harrison. It's a lovely fat travel diary that ends on a bittersweet, unresolved note. I'm making good progress with "The Secret History of the World" by Mark Booth, which I've decided is kind of a silly book, but it has occasional interesting bits. There's a meme going around where you add " . . . With A Chainsaw" to the title of the last book you read. "Italian Days with a Chainsaw" sounds exciting, and so does "The Secret History of the World with a Chainsaw." I started reading another travel book, Jedidiah Jenkins' "To Shake the Sleeping Self," in which he rides a bicycle the length of the Americas. "To Shake the Sleeping Self with a Chainsaw" would be a novel method of achieving enlightenment. I don't plan to try it. In fact, I'd rather not shake my sleeping self! If I ever manage to sleep again, any guru who has the temerity to poke me will get his head smacked with extreme prejudice.
and possibly a chainsaw
Date: 2020-04-23 05:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-04-23 03:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-04-23 03:26 pm (UTC)I was looking at a recipe book the other night: Toast. Toast with a Chainsaw sounds kind of... overkill.
Re: and possibly a chainsaw
Date: 2020-04-24 02:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-04-24 02:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-04-24 02:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-04-24 02:51 am (UTC)(Also, howling with laughter. I may forgive you for the horrible pun after all.)