It has been a dismal day; doing something silly was the most readily available anodyne. Luckily a stash of disposable overalls has, for reasons far too complicated to recount, been lurking in the back of a wardrobe for years.
My lack of skill in figurative art came out again in a horrible parody of that lovely weed, the germander speedwell.
But anyway I peacefully devoted half an hour to making myself ridiculous.
It has been a day full of recalcitrances, various: rusted-in bolts; institutional forms that nothing human could complete without error; the Great Document Hunt of 2019; the sheer physical resistance of damp grass.
So yes; the advantage of a familiar film – knowing what the pops, whoops, scratching noises, clicks, and occasional explosions mean without having to actually look. I took to the recliner and duly reclined.
I’m listening to The Martian (Weir) more or less on repeat: presumably my psyche bracing for adversity. Finding and printing a map was a fiddle, though not nearly as much of a fiddle as retrieving the family cookbook from ancient Appleworks into pdf into Word, adding in bits from Pages en route.
Not on screen: one or two of the pegged-down begonia leaves are trying, but not the red ones, which insist on dissolving into the compost.
August isn’t necessarily the best month to incinerate the past, and my face is now very pink, but at least there is no heatwave at the moment, and nor did I set the chimney on fire in my enthusiasm.
Difficult to say which bits of paper were most depressing; the invoices for emergency dental treatment were a definite low point, however.
Still too convalescent to put out a cheer for diligence. Backalong, choosing ten bright binders was a good idea, but a better one would have been twenty.
A small stack of post-it notes emerged from a heap of random paperwork.
The first said:
The second said:
The third said:
The set must have meant something once.
A relaxing read, on the whole, though the prose is occasionally purple and narration always in the present tense. I always want more biology and fewer atmospherics, but a few facts sifted into the text. Much can be forgiven to a fellow newt-fancier and pond-digging advocate.
Boss-eyed with e-books, working on an imposition scheme seemed restful, until the prototype went wrong for the third time.
The traditional method (poundage a little excessive):
Being impatient, I also tried the modern method, in spite of a curious smell, which might have been the microwaved elastic bands. It sort of worked; though it is surprising how much water there was in these few small specimens. At least it used up the stack of essay drafts as blotting paper, a fate that they well deserved.