Roadrunner of Flourish
Aug. 16th, 2023 10:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ismoEh . . . still here, just haven't felt like posting lately because I'm always tired and disgruntled at night. I spent the past two weeks doing walk/exercise EVERY DAY and now it's going down the tubes because I really just haven't felt up to it this week. So far. Maybe tomorrow! I felt like crap, as if feverish although I didn't have a temperature. The Sparrowhawk even exclaimed over how hot to the touch I was, but the thermometer didn't agree. Anomalous effects are my specialty! I covid-tested myself last night in advance of taking Madame out today, because I didn't want to risk making her ill. I was negative--not even the tiniest hint of a line.
Madame seems to be doing all right in the absence of Mademoiselle, who I hope will be home tomorrow. She had elder helper type people to visit her Monday and Tuesday, but didn't think much of them. They were not her favorite, who is on vacation. When I arrived today, she was pottering about in the driveway, taking some trash out to the trashcans. She did not have her cane. I went inside and got it for her. Then she couldn't find the garage door opener, in order to close the garage. She pulled out a key, and was perplexed by it. I said "That's your front door key." But she didn't think so. I wanted her to give it to me, so I could go into the garage, close the door, and then re-emerge via the front door, and re-lock it. She did not understand my proposal, put the key back in the purse, and then couldn't find it again. So I went around through the house and just didn't lock the front door again--I couldn't, without a key.
We had a pretty nice time, and I thought we were on track with the schedule. I suggested we take another look at some journals for keeping track of one's reading. We'd seen them last time, and she wanted one. I thought about it, and decided it would be useful for me, as well. However, in the end, she declined. Instead, we examined EVERY OTHER NOTEBOOK on the rack, in search of the perfect pocket memo book, which apparently did not exist. I bought the "Book Lover's Journal" and a box of cards with adorable foxes on them for the Sparrowhawk, who is fond of foxes. She bought a hot glove from the kitchen center. And then I saw her safely up the stairs and into the house. And was late getting home. Sometimes I wonder if she does it on purpose . . . . She's thinking about moving to a retirement community, just temporarily, to try it out. But not now--"not while it's still summer." Oh, Madame . . . .
On Monday, I had a Zoom with my editor and his art director, to talk about a cover for the book. Not that my presence was really very necessary. Art directors do what they're gonna do. My editor admitted to some embarrassment that he hadn't finished reading the book yet. Then he said he was going to have to start all over at the beginning, because he had forgotten the parts that he did read . . . although he was pretty sure he liked it so far. SIGH.
I had to tear off to the grocery store to buy a few fruits and vegetables and things before the Sparrowhawk went to the gym, because he has to take the car in again tomorrow. This time, because the washer fluid isn't working right. I should have gone out for a walk after that, but I didn't feel like it. See above. Summer is turning. I hear crickets singing after dark. I saw a single yellow leaf fall, the last time I did go out for a walk. But there's still tomorrow . . . isn't there?? I can't give up--not while it's still summer . . . . To quote my own poem, "grasses sway in evening breeze. Already/crickets sing beside the trail."
Madame seems to be doing all right in the absence of Mademoiselle, who I hope will be home tomorrow. She had elder helper type people to visit her Monday and Tuesday, but didn't think much of them. They were not her favorite, who is on vacation. When I arrived today, she was pottering about in the driveway, taking some trash out to the trashcans. She did not have her cane. I went inside and got it for her. Then she couldn't find the garage door opener, in order to close the garage. She pulled out a key, and was perplexed by it. I said "That's your front door key." But she didn't think so. I wanted her to give it to me, so I could go into the garage, close the door, and then re-emerge via the front door, and re-lock it. She did not understand my proposal, put the key back in the purse, and then couldn't find it again. So I went around through the house and just didn't lock the front door again--I couldn't, without a key.
We had a pretty nice time, and I thought we were on track with the schedule. I suggested we take another look at some journals for keeping track of one's reading. We'd seen them last time, and she wanted one. I thought about it, and decided it would be useful for me, as well. However, in the end, she declined. Instead, we examined EVERY OTHER NOTEBOOK on the rack, in search of the perfect pocket memo book, which apparently did not exist. I bought the "Book Lover's Journal" and a box of cards with adorable foxes on them for the Sparrowhawk, who is fond of foxes. She bought a hot glove from the kitchen center. And then I saw her safely up the stairs and into the house. And was late getting home. Sometimes I wonder if she does it on purpose . . . . She's thinking about moving to a retirement community, just temporarily, to try it out. But not now--"not while it's still summer." Oh, Madame . . . .
On Monday, I had a Zoom with my editor and his art director, to talk about a cover for the book. Not that my presence was really very necessary. Art directors do what they're gonna do. My editor admitted to some embarrassment that he hadn't finished reading the book yet. Then he said he was going to have to start all over at the beginning, because he had forgotten the parts that he did read . . . although he was pretty sure he liked it so far. SIGH.
I had to tear off to the grocery store to buy a few fruits and vegetables and things before the Sparrowhawk went to the gym, because he has to take the car in again tomorrow. This time, because the washer fluid isn't working right. I should have gone out for a walk after that, but I didn't feel like it. See above. Summer is turning. I hear crickets singing after dark. I saw a single yellow leaf fall, the last time I did go out for a walk. But there's still tomorrow . . . isn't there?? I can't give up--not while it's still summer . . . . To quote my own poem, "grasses sway in evening breeze. Already/crickets sing beside the trail."
