...Not to mention the toothache
Apr. 10th, 2010 02:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceDon't nobody mention the toothache, 'k? For my dentist is away another week yet, and he's the only one who understands the pit of hell that is my mouth. We're not even thinking about the toothache.
Besides which, I have pills for pain; it's under control. And not coming between me and what matters most, which is the kitchen. If reading books is tidying, is housework (vide![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
gillpolack: a revelation for which I shall be ever grateful), then so by definition is eating food. Also, drinking wine which would otherwise be lying about littering up the place. Poor Harry: I saw his beers-in-town and raised him a risotto and a glass of red at home, and he just folded.
Because I had remembered to put the recycling out before he came, therefore it is irrefutable that all those empties around the house today were caused by us last night. Oops?
Still, he made it onto the last metro, so that's okay; and I went into town and did a morning's work. And if my head's been aching, well, it's been aching all week; I mentioned that before. [Can a toothache cause a headache, I wonder? By transference, perhaps, or else by shared infection? This damn tooth we are not talking about is only recently crowned, so I don't think the problem is a cavity; I suspect an abscess at the root...]
And if I spent thirty quid on the way home, well, nobody can object to coffee and lemons and cheese, those are just essentials. And the cookery book is for the collection, not for me (this is my new justification: my books will outlast me, so I'm not selfishly or extravagantly acquiring what I do not need, I'm curating a collection for the future). And t'other thing is a treat for a friend, so there.
And I didn't buy a white chocolate easter egg, even though it was really cheap.
Meanwhile the sun is shiny and the breeze is cool, it's really rather nice out there. Perhaps I should give some time to the garden...?
Or clean the bathroom. Or make stock with mushroom stalks. Or sort some paperwork. Or do my taxes. Or start a new book. Or...
Besides which, I have pills for pain; it's under control. And not coming between me and what matters most, which is the kitchen. If reading books is tidying, is housework (vide
gillpolack: a revelation for which I shall be ever grateful), then so by definition is eating food. Also, drinking wine which would otherwise be lying about littering up the place. Poor Harry: I saw his beers-in-town and raised him a risotto and a glass of red at home, and he just folded.Because I had remembered to put the recycling out before he came, therefore it is irrefutable that all those empties around the house today were caused by us last night. Oops?
Still, he made it onto the last metro, so that's okay; and I went into town and did a morning's work. And if my head's been aching, well, it's been aching all week; I mentioned that before. [Can a toothache cause a headache, I wonder? By transference, perhaps, or else by shared infection? This damn tooth we are not talking about is only recently crowned, so I don't think the problem is a cavity; I suspect an abscess at the root...]
And if I spent thirty quid on the way home, well, nobody can object to coffee and lemons and cheese, those are just essentials. And the cookery book is for the collection, not for me (this is my new justification: my books will outlast me, so I'm not selfishly or extravagantly acquiring what I do not need, I'm curating a collection for the future). And t'other thing is a treat for a friend, so there.
And I didn't buy a white chocolate easter egg, even though it was really cheap.
Meanwhile the sun is shiny and the breeze is cool, it's really rather nice out there. Perhaps I should give some time to the garden...?
Or clean the bathroom. Or make stock with mushroom stalks. Or sort some paperwork. Or do my taxes. Or start a new book. Or...