Paperwork: how she is done

So I was just clearing off the coffeetable, preparatory to picking (yes, I know I said I'd do this yesterday, but, y'know. Didn't), and I picked up a small pile of papers and said to myself - in a very literal sense, word for word - "Oh, yes. These are financial papers I think I thought I might need to keep or something. I dunno."

You will be relieved to learn they have now been solemnly filed on the staircase, whence they will migrate eventually from downstairs to upstairs. Umph.

Luckily, of course, I can run away from all this. Indeed I can shred most of it, before I run away from the remainder.

In other news, one of these boys has a late-developing sock fetish. Every morning now, I wake to find one of yesterday's socks redistributed from upstairs to down, from the bedroom to the living-room. Don't ask me.

But they were deeply cute last night. I had another long bout of not-sleeping, so Barry came and sat on my chest and Mac came and sat on my legs and they both did my sleeping for me, and didn't fight at all.

In other other news, my magick-4-Terri auction is up to $50 already, but don't let that stop you bidding. The cause is good, and actually? So are the books.

Infirm of purpose

So I had done this and that, and I thought I should do some of the other, in that workie-sense of things; so I thought I'd go into town, read through what I've done of Pandaemonium and be ready to start back on it tomorrow morning. And then I could go to the stationery store and shop for exciting stationeries (oh, c'mon: which of you doesn't still get excited by new pens and envelopes and such? ... Liar. Yes you do. Everybody does).

Only then I stepped out of my door, and found that the warm sunny day had turned suddenly grey and cold and rainy; and in my reluctance, I blessedly remembered that if I wanted to read through the MS of Pandaemonium, I would actually need a MS to read through. So I scuttled back indoors and printed it out, thinking that by the time it was done maybe the shower would be past and I'd head off again.

No such thing. By the time it was done (not actually very long at all: it's only thirty-odd pages, and that barely takes a minute these days), the rain was hurling against the windows and - well, no way. Thanks very much, but no.

So I may have murmured something about California, and then I remembered that I needed to make a Christmas pudding. So I did: and now I'm totally stuck in the house for the next eight hours while it simmers away in its basin.

I may possibly watch a movie (what does it say about me, I wonder, that Kill Bill is actually one of my comfort-movies?), but I may not. The other thing that happened was that I had a rare reminder, about an anthology I'd promised to submit to but entirely forgotten about. The concept sounds fun, and I found an opening line very quickly; so I thought I'd just write that down, and then I had an opening page, and... Well. Obviously I can't work on Pandaemonium until I've read it through, which will now be tomorrow; I might as well work on this. Tho' I have absolutely no idea where it's going, from this cute little opening line. Hell, it doesn't even have a title yet. I hate working without a title...

EtA: in other news, I grated my fumbnail. All the way frough to my fumb. There was blug and everyfing. *whimpers*

Not by bread alone

This isn't even other news, this is just stupid: but at lunchtime I had soup (these days, I live on soup), but I was feeling bold and I have my baking-mojo back, so I took a slice off this fabulous sourdough loaf I'd baked, and cut it neatly in half, and, um. Put it somewhere.

I have no idea. I could not find it then, when the soup was hot; I cannot find it now, when the soup is not. I might be sitting here dunking it in oil, but I'm not. It are vanished. Not in the kitchen, not in the dining-room, not in the living-room. Not nowhere.

I would obviously accuse one of the boys ("Mac! Stand front-and-centre, and confess!") - except that as I say, I did cut it neatly in two, and I don't believe that either boy would take both pieces at once. They might have divvied up, one each - but when were they ever so sharing?

It just baffles me, that's all. This really isn't a big house, and there aren't so many places that two pieces of bread can hide out; and yet, and yet...

*is baffled*