Snoooozzzz

[desperance]

Barry is fast asleep on my keyboard, dreaming of cat-typing all through my documents. What he doesn't realise (being asleep) is that I have sneakily unplugged that keyboard and am using another one. Snerkle.

In other news: I have constructed 339 linear feet of shelving. That's the downstairs more or less finished (not counting in the 24 feet of cookbook shelving, which is a special case and I'm not touching that), if only because I have no room to add more. What with unloading all the old shelves and loading up the new, I have had an existential panic that boils down neatly to "OMG I'm going away tomorrow and I've got nothing to read!"

Happily, I spotted Fred Kaplan's biography of Gore Vidal; that should see me through. I like enormous biographies of literary giants. One happy month I read big fat volumes on both Lawrence and Gerald Durrell; spot-the-difference was not half as much fun as spot-the-similarities.

I suppose I should take a work-book too; but, hell, I am actually taking work. That's enough, surely?

For anyone in striking-distance, who wants to come and strike me: we have Write Fantastic gigs at Swindon Litfest tomorrow, Brentford Library on Thursday, Streatham Library on Friday. Details on our website, here.

Also, I am reading on Saturday evening at the Manchester Museum.

Comments

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Absolutely, dust is natural! Quite what purpose it serves is still a mystery, I think, but that's a question for the theologians, among whom I make no longer one.

I am hopeful that by the time I get to the end of this process, all my books will be on shelves and in (my definitions of) order. We are allowed, I think, to hope. I still can't work out whether or not this is against the odds; sometimes I'm confident, sometimes I'm the other thing. Truth will out, eventually; I have to tackle The Upstairs next, which includes The Office, which will need a week of sorting before I can even get to the walls to start shelving. If you read brisingamen's comments on tidying peake's study this morning - well, just envision that, in spades. This is a large room (by the standards of Victorian inner-city terracing - say fifteen by fifteen feet, more or less) and, well, there is a beaten path from door to desk. The rest of it, you're wading...

[fidelioscabinet.livejournal.com]

Order must be intrinsic to the orderer, I think, and not to anyone else, and we can only hope that orderer=principal user.

I can claim to have mostly tidy books, but only that--the place is in general a payground for Chaos, where Entropy not only demonstates itself (the show starts every hour, but not on the hour), but has set up its tottering throne {one leg may be on top of something; hard to tell for sure in the general litter), and reigns supreme.