"Show for me."
Today the sky is wide and carnivorous, and the air is pretending to be "warm," like an angler fish's lure. Currently, here in Providence it's 46˚F, but feels like 41˚F.
Yesterday was lost to internet service trouble and repair. The guy from Cox arrived about one-thirty or two, and I was summarily chased from my office. I cleaned the kitchen a bit while he worked. Then we had to go to Staples to get a new router. The router wasn't actually the original problem. But the old one mysteriously died while while the Cox guy was figuring out what was causing the trouble (constant outages, latency, etc.).
I managed to answer a little of the backed-up email, that was all. I tend to become reluctant to answer email when the writing is difficult. I have no idea why. It pisses me off, the email. I miss the days of envelopes in mailboxes and telephones - actual telephones.
Here is yesterday's stale Hell:
So, not much of anything to right about. I went with Spooky on the trip across town to Staples. I couldn't have worked anyway, not after the disruption of having a strange person in the House. It was foggy out, and the day grew foggier as it drew to a close. It was a profoundly ugly day. A shame streets have to look like car dealerships. Photos behind the cut:
All photographs Copyright © 2014 Caitlín R. Kiernan
A true friend is the person to whom you can say, "You know, you're actually sort of a cunt," without them refusing ever to speak to you again.
Your Guess Is As Good As Mine,
Aunt Beast
Yesterday was lost to internet service trouble and repair. The guy from Cox arrived about one-thirty or two, and I was summarily chased from my office. I cleaned the kitchen a bit while he worked. Then we had to go to Staples to get a new router. The router wasn't actually the original problem. But the old one mysteriously died while while the Cox guy was figuring out what was causing the trouble (constant outages, latency, etc.).
I managed to answer a little of the backed-up email, that was all. I tend to become reluctant to answer email when the writing is difficult. I have no idea why. It pisses me off, the email. I miss the days of envelopes in mailboxes and telephones - actual telephones.
Here is yesterday's stale Hell:
So, not much of anything to right about. I went with Spooky on the trip across town to Staples. I couldn't have worked anyway, not after the disruption of having a strange person in the House. It was foggy out, and the day grew foggier as it drew to a close. It was a profoundly ugly day. A shame streets have to look like car dealerships. Photos behind the cut:
All photographs Copyright © 2014 Caitlín R. Kiernan
A true friend is the person to whom you can say, "You know, you're actually sort of a cunt," without them refusing ever to speak to you again.
Your Guess Is As Good As Mine,
Aunt Beast