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Buzzard of Simmer
Jul. 28th, 2020 09:33 pmI slept for exactly eight hours last night, according to my Fitbit! Although I woke up five times, so it was kind of a cyclical thing. It was a very conversational day, because I saw my therapist for the first time in months, and followed that up with a delightful Zoom chat with Deb and the Prussian. I was happy to see Madame on her feet and walking, with the help of a cane. It has been two months since she fell and broke her hip. She's complaining about the extended recovery period, but I told her I think she is a fast healer. It takes some people a lot longer than that at her age. The humidity has gone down, and it was a perfect summer day. We sat outside, and I actually worked on my revisions. It wasn't horrible. It's like moving all the squares around on one of those little moving square puzzles--fitting all the bits back together in a different order. I try to look upon it as a diversion.
After another bland dinner, I dashed back upstairs and quickly vacuumed up the dust bunnies. I was trying to finished dusting all the surfaces first, because I inevitably spread more bits of dust around, but I just couldn't contemplate the dusty floors any longer. Fixed that. Then I went out and watered most of the plants. It might rain tonight, but just in case it doesn't, I didn't want them to get dried out. It was so pleasant in the cool of the evening that we sat outside for a little longer, until the sun sank below the edge of the cloud and blazed into my eyes. We watched some more baking. After living mostly on vegetables, rice, and mashed potatoes for days, I'm feeling rather hungry.
The Sparrowhawk told me that today was the birthday of Beatrix Potter and Gerard Manley Hopkins--two favorite writers! And it's also, according to the Lutherans, the feast day of Bach, to which they just threw in Handel and Schutz, because hey, great German musicians. I would love to make cake for all of them. Poor dear Gerard probably wouldn't eat it, though. Either he'd be mortifying himself or he'd have digestive problems. He was only five feet two--practically a hobbit! He should have found a kind friend who would feed him cake, instead of joining the Jesuits. Maybe he would have written more ecstatic poetry, and less of the gloomy kind. Hmm . . . now I'm thinking about a Good Omens AU, in which Aziraphale has incarnated as a diminutive, scrupulous nineteeth-century poet, and Crowley must find him and perform cake rescue before it's too late. . . .
After another bland dinner, I dashed back upstairs and quickly vacuumed up the dust bunnies. I was trying to finished dusting all the surfaces first, because I inevitably spread more bits of dust around, but I just couldn't contemplate the dusty floors any longer. Fixed that. Then I went out and watered most of the plants. It might rain tonight, but just in case it doesn't, I didn't want them to get dried out. It was so pleasant in the cool of the evening that we sat outside for a little longer, until the sun sank below the edge of the cloud and blazed into my eyes. We watched some more baking. After living mostly on vegetables, rice, and mashed potatoes for days, I'm feeling rather hungry.
The Sparrowhawk told me that today was the birthday of Beatrix Potter and Gerard Manley Hopkins--two favorite writers! And it's also, according to the Lutherans, the feast day of Bach, to which they just threw in Handel and Schutz, because hey, great German musicians. I would love to make cake for all of them. Poor dear Gerard probably wouldn't eat it, though. Either he'd be mortifying himself or he'd have digestive problems. He was only five feet two--practically a hobbit! He should have found a kind friend who would feed him cake, instead of joining the Jesuits. Maybe he would have written more ecstatic poetry, and less of the gloomy kind. Hmm . . . now I'm thinking about a Good Omens AU, in which Aziraphale has incarnated as a diminutive, scrupulous nineteeth-century poet, and Crowley must find him and perform cake rescue before it's too late. . . .
