(no subject)

I have lost a single power cord. If I can find it, I can play back old cassettes and decide which have to go. I need the space and it's a good background activity while working. It's a fine idea, all round.

In the process of looking for a single power cord (which was displaced during the burglary, of course) I have found many cords and a bunch of floppies and CDs and DVDs and bits of stray equipment of various kinds. They're being put back where they ought to have been and slowly, slowly I'm coming to an end of it. Still no cord for my cassette player, though. Which means I'm not nearly at an end of the sorting, I just think I am.

In the process of all this, I'm diminishing possessions a little. Not as much as I ought, but a little. And I found two giant bottles of that home made cherry liqueur. I remember putting them there, now.

This gradual process of diminution, sorting and rediscovery is going to take ma a long, long time, I fear. It will take longer if I keep forgetting the damaged hand and using it, too. I didn't redamage it too badly - just stretched it a bit. Expressing my boredom with hurt.

The only other thing to report right now is that I'll be writing about the Middle Ages (for BiblioBuffet, I think) until dinner, and after that I'm mostly modern until 8 August. If ever someone is foolish enough to write my biography, it should be called 'Mostly Modern.'

I really, really want that power cord, for so much of my dance tapes are eyeing me and want to be played. I used to be able to do (appallingly) a Thai classical dance and I found the music. And the music to some Indonesian dances I loved. What if I forget them during the time the cord is missing!

And now I'm into work avoidance.

(no subject)

I am causing the insurance jeweller case manager much grief, for I can't say "I want a necklace that looks precisely like this." I did that when I was 21, and that was the pendant we're replacing and I find I can't pull out the perfect image in my mind's eye this time. I tell her I like Art deco and Art Nouveau, but not always.

I've sent through pictures of things I like and even of a Paris museum (for I was running short of ideas) and hopefully it will help. In the meantime, you might like one of my Paris pictures. It has me in it. (And if it's sideways, then you might have to tip your head to see it, for my whole day is sideways and I am merely communicating it effectively.)



And now for my next amazing feat I shall stop the download issues that plague me and I shall get those ferry timetables! I shall, of course, do this while writing 2,000 words. This is not multiskilling, it's pure patience.

Minor grumbles only

Today has been a long slog trying to deal with my computer and the internet and my internet connection. It was especial fun when they all disintegrated at the same time. It lost me so much of my working day that I may have to skip tomorrow night's CSFG meeting. It all depends on how much I catch up between now and then, I guess.

When things went too peculiar and needed settling time, I tried working on the netbook (which sometimes helped and sometimes made things worse, because a component of my curious day was obviously my ISP having a bad day) and then I gave up and did more of the sorting of strange sections of my flat. I was looking for the missing power cord for my cassette player, but it still hasn't appeared. A lot else has, though. Not even the burglar got as far into my lost possessions as I managed, today.

All this excitement was in lieu of other things. I only wrote 1500 words. I need to do another 2000 before bed, and then I can face tomorrow. Tomorrow will still be busy, but it won't be quite as impossible. The problem is, of course, that I didn't achieve much today, but I spent a lot of energy in the process and I want time out for good behaviour.

Today, all in all, was a bit of a mystery to me. Part of the mystery is how all this housework can result in a flat that's just as messy as before. Other people do cleaning that results in the things being cleaned actually looking nice, why doesn't that work for me?

What I want to do is go to my storeroom and take out all my Abbey Girl books and read them in bed for three days, while drinking much tea. At least I can manage the tea. And if I write my 2000 words quickly I can possibly watch some Dr Who.

(no subject)

I have given up on my 2000 words. The trouble is that I can't find them. I have twenty-five hooks to hang an article on and I only need one. When I found myself wittering about all the different things I could write and filling up many words with no content to speak of, I realised that the book will just have to wait. I don't want it to wait. I love this book in many ways. It's perfect for my next slot. But it's a choice between something quite appallingly written and something tolerable, though, and so there is no choice.

I need something non-SF for that slot and I need it by tomorrow night, since obviously tonight is just not going to happen. The only other books that are all ready for writing up are speculative fiction. In fact, only one other of my current review books isn't speculative fiction of some kind. How did that happen?

I shall write about something else entirely. Tomorrow. Tonight I shall wander through my library until I find that something else that needs writing about. There are always books that need writing about - it's just that mostly they don't need searching for so very hard. If I had known, I could have searched while I did all that put-away stuff, earlier.

I think the world is signalling me I need an early night and that I need to instruct my dreams to remind me what books I put on my mental "I want to write about this someday" list. If I had an extra day or two, it would be the Abbey Girl and their surprising Fabian connection. One day I shall tell that story.

Tonight, sleep beckons.