Unreal City

I have found my shaver's charging-cord. Behind the sofa, whither it had either fallen been knocked off a high shelf, or else been dragged and abandoned. Either way, I blame the eight-footed two-headed black-hearted Mighty Hunter I am doomed to share my house with. Smug little fuzzbutts. Just wait, I'll shave them. Then they'll be sorry. And mocked. God is not mocked, but cats is.

In other news: the croci are out, in the park across the street. White and purple, bold and determined in the fog. Nothing else exists: I went for a walk on the moor, and would have had no idea that there was a city anywhere around.

In other other news: I have eaten cheese at matociquala's direction, and chilli because that is my own universal comfort food, and I am, I think, feeling better. Thank you. I don't want to work, at all, and I may not; but still. Better than yesterday the day before yesterday.

In other other other news, there are a few reviews out there, of anthos with my stories in. I will gather up a post. I will. That's almost work. But oh, I am tired. I dreamed of falling asleep in a pub among nice young men. Each of whom had brought books with them, which is sovereign for niceness. But despite sleeping in my dreams as well as in my bed, I am still tired. Maybe I should read a book, and see if nice young men occur spontaneously round about me...?

Thou hast committed ... DIY

Damn these TV controllers, with their delinquent notions of entertainment! I had fully intended to spend the afternoon slumped in front of a movie or near equivalent, with a bottle of wine, herby pork scratchings fresh from the oven, a despairing expression and a cat or two.

But there was nothing even good enough to tempt me into the self-loathing of a wasted afternoon, let alone actually to attract me. So instead I have sawed off the obstructive end of a shelf, and thereby made space to introduce a whole new shelving unit into the kitchen, yay!

In the doing of which, I had to clear said shelf of its accumulated spices. This is the overflow shelf, underneath the spice-cupboard, and things only get put there if I'm fairly sure I'm not actually going to use them; when I tell you that I saw a use-by date of 2004 and thought "oh, actually that's not bad," you will gather an accurate impression of its contents. (That was pink peppercorns preserved in vinegar, since you ask. When am I ever going to use pink peppercorns preserved in vinegar? Besides, there's a misprint on the label...)

Thing is, though, the next obvious step is to sort through all those spice-jars and throw most of them away. (The one with the use-by date of 1995? That's definitely going. I promise.)(Bouquets-garnis, since you ask: the teabag variety. I had no use for them in 1994, clearly, and that's before I started growing my own herbs...) Which is probably why I find myself suddenly back here, glass of wine, scratchings, having a little poke at vaguely working. Just in case. I really do not like throwing things away...