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desperanceI have never been a houseproud, tidy kind of person. I envy those who are - indeed, I hanker for a minimalist lifestyle that I will never, never be able to achieve - but generally I can comfort myself with the thought that chaos is creative. One of these days, though, it really would be a good idea if I could learn to put the shopping away. I put things down and forget 'em, or I leave them on the dining-room table because I can't think where else they should go, or I leave perishables in bags until they perish, or...
Yesterday afternoon, there was something missing from my life: viz a small black shadow implying that it was supper-time when it really wasn't. At four o'clock, there was no sign of him. At five o'clock, ditto. At six o'clock, which really is supper-time for cats, I had to call him; and even then he just snatched a few wry mouthfuls and wandered off.
For about a second and a half, I was worried. Then I remembered - and went into the dining-room, and lo, he had unzippered the zippy thing on my backpack, razored open the sack of catfood that lay therein with a single slashing claw (he can be neat, when he chooses) and Lord alone knows how much he'd eaten. Enough to be uninterested in tea. The word 'gorged' comes to mind...
He is determined to be a fat cat, and it seems I am incompetent to prevent him.
Meanwhile, I myself am still full of cold and running out of lemons. This is bad. The four staple ingredients of a good toddy are lemons, cheap honey, cheap whisky and Angostura bitters; alas, I am already onto the Laphraoig and the artisanal French chestnut honey - which do make a fabulous toddy, it just feels a bit of a waste - and if I run out of lemons I'll be lost. I'm not going out there today, it's foul.
In other news, I am trying to write the proposal for Dragon-in-Chains et seq, the Taiwan fantasies. I have summarised the background and laid out the prime characters in their positions - which is exactly as far as my thinking has taken me thus far. Here on in, I need to make stuff up; to be precise, I need to make up something that looks like a plot. I have absolutely no idea what happens, in these books. If people would just let me write 'em, we'd find out together; but they always want to be told in advance. I hate this.
Maybe I'll just go and sit in front of the fire with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
matociquala's and truepenny's smutty transgressive animal-companion book instead. I have just decided to mutilate a leading man - again! - so maybe I have done enough. Sit quiet awhile, and let the pieces shuffle into a new conformation somewhere in the backbrain. And read about wolves. Yes, please...
Yesterday afternoon, there was something missing from my life: viz a small black shadow implying that it was supper-time when it really wasn't. At four o'clock, there was no sign of him. At five o'clock, ditto. At six o'clock, which really is supper-time for cats, I had to call him; and even then he just snatched a few wry mouthfuls and wandered off.
For about a second and a half, I was worried. Then I remembered - and went into the dining-room, and lo, he had unzippered the zippy thing on my backpack, razored open the sack of catfood that lay therein with a single slashing claw (he can be neat, when he chooses) and Lord alone knows how much he'd eaten. Enough to be uninterested in tea. The word 'gorged' comes to mind...
He is determined to be a fat cat, and it seems I am incompetent to prevent him.
Meanwhile, I myself am still full of cold and running out of lemons. This is bad. The four staple ingredients of a good toddy are lemons, cheap honey, cheap whisky and Angostura bitters; alas, I am already onto the Laphraoig and the artisanal French chestnut honey - which do make a fabulous toddy, it just feels a bit of a waste - and if I run out of lemons I'll be lost. I'm not going out there today, it's foul.
In other news, I am trying to write the proposal for Dragon-in-Chains et seq, the Taiwan fantasies. I have summarised the background and laid out the prime characters in their positions - which is exactly as far as my thinking has taken me thus far. Here on in, I need to make stuff up; to be precise, I need to make up something that looks like a plot. I have absolutely no idea what happens, in these books. If people would just let me write 'em, we'd find out together; but they always want to be told in advance. I hate this.
Maybe I'll just go and sit in front of the fire with
matociquala's and truepenny's smutty transgressive animal-companion book instead. I have just decided to mutilate a leading man - again! - so maybe I have done enough. Sit quiet awhile, and let the pieces shuffle into a new conformation somewhere in the backbrain. And read about wolves. Yes, please...![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-29 05:00 pm (UTC)Oddly enough, I'm reading River of the World.
There's a nice interlocking parallelism there.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-29 05:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-29 05:56 pm (UTC)(Also, I hope you do feel better soon. I'm fighting something off, it seems; anyway, I'm headachy and slept a lot.)
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-29 06:15 pm (UTC)Not in the leastest slightest littlest bit, I'm loving it. It just makes me think a little, about my practice and the job in general. Nothing too profound.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-29 06:17 pm (UTC)