can't talk, indexing
indexindexindex. Now on the last chapter, which should give me the next four or five days to rationalise, reshuffle and double-check before the deadline kicks in. I am completely amazed by how much I've enjoyed this indexing lark, it's a lovely fit to the vague, organic wanderings which characterise my brain in its quest for order.
On the downside, the house is not a happy working environment right now, on account of the atmosphere of icy, implacable hatred. I packed the three cats into boxes this morning and lugged them off to the vet for their annual checkup, a process accompanied by a loud, uncoordinated and indignant chorus most trying to my semi-musical ear. I'm a bit worried that the Evil Landlord is away this weekend, there's a small but real chance that he might come back on Sunday to discover that the cats, working in concert for the first time ever, have buried me in the garden in retribution. I shall have to sleep with a loaded catnip-toy next to my bed.
Have a lovely time at HBD, all you SCA types. I'm a bit wistful, but even if I wasn't on hiatus I'd be too busy with the indexing to go, so I suppose it's all for the best.
X-Files update: into the final season. Dogget still growing on me, he's just so basically decent! Reyes is not quite as irritating as she was, but I still want to feed her to a giant lizard at intervals. And Adam Baldwin is still around, for my Firefly-flashback pleasure. This weekend's problem, of course, is whether being alone in the house will make it impossible to watch X-Files of an evening. I do get very jumpy.
Last Night I Dreamed: I took up a three-year post teaching English and acting as an advisor to a creative writing class at a university in Mumbai. Lovely campus, with a giant flight of steps curiously similar to those of my Cherished Institution.
On the downside, the house is not a happy working environment right now, on account of the atmosphere of icy, implacable hatred. I packed the three cats into boxes this morning and lugged them off to the vet for their annual checkup, a process accompanied by a loud, uncoordinated and indignant chorus most trying to my semi-musical ear. I'm a bit worried that the Evil Landlord is away this weekend, there's a small but real chance that he might come back on Sunday to discover that the cats, working in concert for the first time ever, have buried me in the garden in retribution. I shall have to sleep with a loaded catnip-toy next to my bed.
Have a lovely time at HBD, all you SCA types. I'm a bit wistful, but even if I wasn't on hiatus I'd be too busy with the indexing to go, so I suppose it's all for the best.
X-Files update: into the final season. Dogget still growing on me, he's just so basically decent! Reyes is not quite as irritating as she was, but I still want to feed her to a giant lizard at intervals. And Adam Baldwin is still around, for my Firefly-flashback pleasure. This weekend's problem, of course, is whether being alone in the house will make it impossible to watch X-Files of an evening. I do get very jumpy.
Last Night I Dreamed: I took up a three-year post teaching English and acting as an advisor to a creative writing class at a university in Mumbai. Lovely campus, with a giant flight of steps curiously similar to those of my Cherished Institution.