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LeafBeetle of Simmer
Aug. 11th, 2023 09:34 pmWe had our Zoom with Deb and the Prussian early, so the Prussian could get to his PT appointment. After that, I theoretically could have gone for a walk if I'd hustled, but I did something else instead, only I forget what. My editor emailed me to arrange a Zoom on Monday with his art director so they can talk about a cover for my theoretical book. Since he's hiring an artist, which is going to require paying somebody, I guess he must be intending to accept my ms.? Maybe? But he hasn't told me that yet, nor has he paid me the second half of my fee for writing it. Strange are the ways of editors.
The service station called to tell the Sparrowhawk the car was ready. They never did figure out what the annoying rattle was. They replicated it, and concluded that it wasn't mechanical, and wasn't a safety concern. They thought it was probably something in the dashboard, but were reluctant to take the dashboard apart to find out. They also refilled our washer fluid. All this for no charge! This is why we like them. I also like this conclusion because it's exactly what I thought. But I agreed that we needed to have my opinion confirmed by experts before going on any long trips.
I did go out for a walk later. The Sparrowhawk declined the opportunity. It wasn't his best time of day, and he had other things to do. It wasn't as long a walk as I had expected, because I ran into another neighbor. She has a lovely garden, and I often wave to her when I see her out working in it. She crossed the street to say hello, and we had an agreeable chat where we exchanged various thoughts and stories about which we were in agreeable harmony. We exchanged names, so now I know who she is. Alas, I felt an awful pang because I think she has dementia. I know, I know--I'm just seeing it everywhere, like someone who has been given a Hammer of Misfortune by some bad fairy and is now seeing a whole lot of dark, fatal nails. I can't help it, though. The hesitations in her speech, the way names and things dropped out at times, the effort I could see in her face . . . . I'd rather be mercifully oblivious. One may hope to be mistaken.
I went around a slightly different route than usual and came home via a street where a new house was recently built. SURPRISE! The entire front yard had been planted in a sea of black-eyed susans! A whole field of bright gold, with a few white yarrow flowers in it. I loved it. The house next door has one of those perfect plush lawns that can only be achieved by the copious application of chemicals. I wonder how that's going to go . . . .
The service station called to tell the Sparrowhawk the car was ready. They never did figure out what the annoying rattle was. They replicated it, and concluded that it wasn't mechanical, and wasn't a safety concern. They thought it was probably something in the dashboard, but were reluctant to take the dashboard apart to find out. They also refilled our washer fluid. All this for no charge! This is why we like them. I also like this conclusion because it's exactly what I thought. But I agreed that we needed to have my opinion confirmed by experts before going on any long trips.
I did go out for a walk later. The Sparrowhawk declined the opportunity. It wasn't his best time of day, and he had other things to do. It wasn't as long a walk as I had expected, because I ran into another neighbor. She has a lovely garden, and I often wave to her when I see her out working in it. She crossed the street to say hello, and we had an agreeable chat where we exchanged various thoughts and stories about which we were in agreeable harmony. We exchanged names, so now I know who she is. Alas, I felt an awful pang because I think she has dementia. I know, I know--I'm just seeing it everywhere, like someone who has been given a Hammer of Misfortune by some bad fairy and is now seeing a whole lot of dark, fatal nails. I can't help it, though. The hesitations in her speech, the way names and things dropped out at times, the effort I could see in her face . . . . I'd rather be mercifully oblivious. One may hope to be mistaken.
I went around a slightly different route than usual and came home via a street where a new house was recently built. SURPRISE! The entire front yard had been planted in a sea of black-eyed susans! A whole field of bright gold, with a few white yarrow flowers in it. I loved it. The house next door has one of those perfect plush lawns that can only be achieved by the copious application of chemicals. I wonder how that's going to go . . . .
