Starling of Bluster

It was a nice sunny day, but once again, I didn't get to go out in it. So frustrating. I have, like, two objectives per day, one of which is usually GO OUTSIDE, but then the time gets used up by other exigencies. I took a few hits to my equilibrium today and am trying to regain my calm, but I probably won't until I get through tomorrow. There's a thing people do, where you have an *issue* in your life, and they fall all over themselves to be helpful. BUT their idea of help is to tell you their own very involved and usually terrible story about something similar. I still recall the guy at church who heard that my mother was having trouble with leg sores that weren't healing, and told me aaall about how his father had the same thing (it wasn't the same, but he didn't listen when I told him that) and he suffered a lot and then DIED from it. Sigh. Yeah thanks pal, that helped a lot . . . Today's conversation was similar. Kindhearted and excessively restrained soul that I am, I expressed appreciation for her concern rather than what I wanted to say, which was GODDAMMIT THAT'S NOT HELPING. I know her intentions were good, but great googly moogly. . . . There is a type of "concern" that resembles words of ill omen as near as dammit. It is to be avoided.

Then I spoke to Madame via Facetime. She was wearing her hat indoors, which she has taken to doing, I'm not sure why. She is expecting me tomorrow, and she also informed me that her car is in her garage again, and she wants me to take her there to get it. Well, clearly I'm not going to do that, but knowing I will have to deal with this yet again makes me not anticipate our visit with pleasure. I texted her daughter to let her know this had come up. In fact, Mademoiselle has taken the car back to use it herself tomorrow. Okay, fine, but why not tell your mother that and spare me the trouble? Lack of straightforwardness spawns many troubles--but usually for other people, so I suppose that's why people do it. Mademoiselle says they're trying to get a doctor to evaluate Madame, but it's problematic as long as her hearing is as bad as it is. They have to get her to wear her implant first. Taking one million years to accomplish needed actions also spawns many troubles. I'm feeling pretty cranky now, just sayin'.

On a happier note, it IS pi day, and pie was had, as was pi, since the pie was circular. Mine was a tiny little sliver, because piecrust in the evening is bad for my stomach. But it's the principle of the thing. The Sparrowhawk had a larger section, but uncharacteristically, did not calculate its ratio to the total area of pie. There are pleasures that trump even math, though I'm sure he'll blanch at my heresy should he read this.