(no subject)

Today was strange. It started very ill and ended up very foodie. I shall be caught up on my lagging Conflux banquet-design duties by Monday, all going well, and that's simply because my novel was being recalcitrant and not taking kindly to being typeset so I got a stay of execution on editing. This is good, because I shall have less time for such things from next week. Though I should have more time for cooking, I hope, and maybe even get back to regular shopping.

If you want to know about the Southern Gothic dinner and where it's up to, you'll have to check out my food history blog . I've taken my medicine (nothing to do with food and everything to do with being sick) and I'm going to get a few hours sleep before the washing machine man comes to sort out my poor troubled white good.

I'm putting in a request to the universe for two days without major hapenings, please, and without even minor crises. In place of all that, I want sleep. Much sleep. Thank you, universe, I appreciate your consideration.

(no subject)

My washing machine is fixed! The motor was totally kaput. If I had a garden I could bury it and mourn. Since I don't, I shall consign it to the loving care of the rubbish bin.

(no subject)

My bedroom gets the afternoon sun. In winter when I overwork, it means I can sort myself out by taking a book to bed. I lie in the sun and catch up on reading. Today, it means that the really cool anthropological study of English behaviour is on the hot side of the house. I don't want to go there. Even if it means walking past my operational washing machine and admiring the clean laundry floor (overflow has to go somewhere when a pump is replaced) - I'm not retrieving it.

Instead of some much-earned rest, I'm going to do some more work. It's less daunting.

My computer is grumbling. It claims it's owed time off.