Où est la chaussette d'antan?

Dear Boys:

It is of course a virtue to ensure that Chaz changes his socks, but even so. He would quite like to know where last night's missing one has gone. (You might have put it in the laundry basket, you know. You really might.)

Also, where the stray other sock in the bathroom has appeared, y'know, from.

Love,

Me.

[In other news, I think it must've been Barry playing Socks. On account of Mac spending almost all the night snuggled up under the duvet with Me. I know this on account of my having spent almost all the night wide awake and randomising doses, wondering whether this pill taken with that pill might make a difference to the pain or put me to sleep or, y'know, something. This ... really isn't good. But maybe it'll get better...?)

Do one thing every day that scares you

Today I have written to my accountant-of-long-standing, to introduce him to the notion that I am departing these shores. I have Absolutely No Idea what the tax implications are, of this move; I don't even know if I'll have to declare my income this side or that side or both.

If I only do one thing every day that scares me, I wonder if I will have done enough, by the time I leave? I'm not sure that one will cover it...

In other news, if I'm not going in to the library today - and I think that's definite now - then I ought at least to lay out the MS of House of Bells downstairs, so that I can at least pretend that I'm going to think about working on it here. I feel awful, but it's due back next week. ("Easy-peasy," I said, when that deadline was proposed. I really shoulda known better, but I hadn't budgeted for high-grade dental infections with concomitant disabling quantities of pain. Really I just wanna sprawl on the sofa under a burden of cats and maybe watch a comfort movie, read more Modesty Blaise, something like that...)

I had a really lovely dinner out with fjm last night: non-alcoholic cocktails and then an Indian restaurant on the wrong side of the river, with unfamiliar menu-choices and an excellent chef. I didn't even miss drinking, except that it might've helped me sleep after. I still don't know quite how it happened, but I do have fabulous friends.

Decisions, decisions

Okay: I'm sick. I'm going to be sick all weekend. That's three nights, from here.

The Lord of the Rings? Is three films. Three long films, in their extended versions.

I'm pulling the curtains, locking the door and taking the phone off the hook*. Three times.

I can't drink, but hey. I have fabulously good teas. And chilli for later.


*Do kids today even understand this expression?**

**Come to that, do they still talk about dialling a number? I saw a girl who must've been older than eight, tho' she was certainly younger than twelve, needing her father to explain how to use the kind of phone I grew up with, because the dial simply bewildered her. (NB: this was in a museum. Oy.)