Sardine of Trill
Apr. 10th, 2023 10:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ismoIt was Dragonfly's turn to come to my house for meditation and chat, but at the last minute, she requested I go to her house instead, because the Minister had to go out to a meeting, and their old dog is now frail enough that they don't want to leave him alone for long. I didn't mind at all. It was a lovely day again. We had a good time catching up and meditating peacefully to the sound of the dog snoring comfortably. He spent a good deal of time sleeping on top of my foot, which I take as a great compliment. He is a nice dog, and I too am sad that he's getting old. They've actually moved their bed downstairs so he won't have to go upstairs any more. This is their plan for themselves when they get old(er) as well, but they'll do more structural rearranging if and when that happens. I pointed out to Dragonfly that now she could play the piano while in bed, and she thought that was very funny and says she's going to try it. The cafe with the most excellent breakfasts in town is now open on Mondays again, so we ate there with much satisfaction. Dragonfly didn't mind leaving the dog for a short brunch.
I was trying to take some time to write something, anything, but when I got home she started texting me with a request to explain Medicare to her. Argh!! I am the LAST person on earth to do this. With the help of the Sparrowhawk, I gave her some bits of advice, including how to talk to the Information Center at the insurance company where we get our supplemental insurance. Then I returned to pondering my perennial problem--how to write a book that doesn't start off with something very sad happening. (And strangely, a propos of nothing, at this very moment the Sparrowhawk just started ranting about insurance. As in, "%$#!@, what a @#$%#% up mess!" Mercy me. Such language. It seems he is seriously perturbed about this. As well he might be, after spending a lifetime trying to fix it.) Tra la la . . . well, then he went off to the gym, and I had a bite to eat and went out for a walk. It wasn't the world's most successful walk. I was very tired and almost turned around, but on the whole, I felt better.
We finished watching "A Murder is Announced." I found it unsatisfactory, both because it was terribly sad when another person got murdered--I take back my comment about not caring, because I did care about this one--and because the motivation of the murderer didn't really make any sense. The Sparrowhawk says it's because my stories are very character-driven, and these murder mysteries are almost entirely plot-driven, with characters plugged in to fulfill the requirements of the plot twists. I suppose there's something in that. In this case, the viewer was required to believe that an elderly woman had the capacity and motivation to carry out a complex scheme including one shooting, one poisoning, and one strangulation (and a fourth attempted murder). I'm sorry, Agatha Christie, but I know MANY old ladies and I don't think a single one of them could do that. There were also several cases of false identity and impersonation--all in this same tiny village. It was too much for my suspension of disbelief, and I felt cheated. I tell you what, though--if Miss Marple ever turned up in a village where I was in residence, I would clear out IMMEDIATELY. She's like a herald of the apocalypse.
I was trying to take some time to write something, anything, but when I got home she started texting me with a request to explain Medicare to her. Argh!! I am the LAST person on earth to do this. With the help of the Sparrowhawk, I gave her some bits of advice, including how to talk to the Information Center at the insurance company where we get our supplemental insurance. Then I returned to pondering my perennial problem--how to write a book that doesn't start off with something very sad happening. (And strangely, a propos of nothing, at this very moment the Sparrowhawk just started ranting about insurance. As in, "%$#!@, what a @#$%#% up mess!" Mercy me. Such language. It seems he is seriously perturbed about this. As well he might be, after spending a lifetime trying to fix it.) Tra la la . . . well, then he went off to the gym, and I had a bite to eat and went out for a walk. It wasn't the world's most successful walk. I was very tired and almost turned around, but on the whole, I felt better.
We finished watching "A Murder is Announced." I found it unsatisfactory, both because it was terribly sad when another person got murdered--I take back my comment about not caring, because I did care about this one--and because the motivation of the murderer didn't really make any sense. The Sparrowhawk says it's because my stories are very character-driven, and these murder mysteries are almost entirely plot-driven, with characters plugged in to fulfill the requirements of the plot twists. I suppose there's something in that. In this case, the viewer was required to believe that an elderly woman had the capacity and motivation to carry out a complex scheme including one shooting, one poisoning, and one strangulation (and a fourth attempted murder). I'm sorry, Agatha Christie, but I know MANY old ladies and I don't think a single one of them could do that. There were also several cases of false identity and impersonation--all in this same tiny village. It was too much for my suspension of disbelief, and I felt cheated. I tell you what, though--if Miss Marple ever turned up in a village where I was in residence, I would clear out IMMEDIATELY. She's like a herald of the apocalypse.
