Hail of Shadow
Oct. 19th, 2024 08:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ismoI had a plan to sleep late this morning, but at 7:30, right on schedule, one of the siding guys showed up. He did something noisy to the machinery, puttered about for a hour, then vanished again. A mystery! Anyway, by then I had bolted to my feet and was awake and dressed. Unfortunate . . . I was forced to take a nap later, and thus my hypothetical morning was laid waste.
We attended a social event, where we saw several people from our distant past. There was a whole lot of poignancy going on. I also met a woman I had known only online, a few years back when I was still in the habit of arguing with people on the internet. I apologized to her in case I had said anything unkind at the time. She said she remembered my name, but didn't recall me being mean to her. We had a nice chat and got acquainted in real life.
The Sparrowhawk kindly ordered my very own copy of The Chicago Manual of Style #18 for me. I had an earlier version back when I was an editor. I disposed of it in a fit of pique the last time we moved, thinking bitterly, "Yeah, like I'll ever need this again." Later, I regretted having done so. Good grief, this thing is a honking MONSTER compared to the relatively slim and modest edition of the past. And the print is pretty small too. I wonder what's in there that the other one didn't have. If I get into an argument with an editor, I can always brain them with the book. The New York Post headline will read "Killed with style . . . Chicago style!" But in this case, Chicago style is neither deepdish, nor piled with sport peppers and onions. But it does contain a relish of serial commas, and the dust jacket is the color of yellow mustard.
We attended a social event, where we saw several people from our distant past. There was a whole lot of poignancy going on. I also met a woman I had known only online, a few years back when I was still in the habit of arguing with people on the internet. I apologized to her in case I had said anything unkind at the time. She said she remembered my name, but didn't recall me being mean to her. We had a nice chat and got acquainted in real life.
The Sparrowhawk kindly ordered my very own copy of The Chicago Manual of Style #18 for me. I had an earlier version back when I was an editor. I disposed of it in a fit of pique the last time we moved, thinking bitterly, "Yeah, like I'll ever need this again." Later, I regretted having done so. Good grief, this thing is a honking MONSTER compared to the relatively slim and modest edition of the past. And the print is pretty small too. I wonder what's in there that the other one didn't have. If I get into an argument with an editor, I can always brain them with the book. The New York Post headline will read "Killed with style . . . Chicago style!" But in this case, Chicago style is neither deepdish, nor piled with sport peppers and onions. But it does contain a relish of serial commas, and the dust jacket is the color of yellow mustard.
