Room 410, Saturday morning
Something was sure to go wrong. Ichabod couldn't say what or why, but he knew it. Yesterday had lulled him into a sense of false security, where he had handwavily immersed himself in the wonders of the Wikipedia, but today he faced the real world, which, in this place, was entirely uncertain and unpredictable.
When anxiety struck practical work was often the best cure, he knew, which was why he was doing laundry in the bathroom sink. That was something he never had to do before, but the lack of servants to do the job -- perhaps there was a 'machine' for it, but Ichabod was not in the mood for experiments -- had forced him to make an attempt on his own. He had tried using the shower to do it, but that had only resulted in completely soaking his only clean shirt. So now the bathroom for was almost flooded, the sink was full of laundry, and a shirtless Ichabod was trying to deal with the situation.
It didn't help that he couldn't stop thinking about his meeting with Celia on Wednesday. In his mind what he had said was repeating itself over and over, making him even more uneasy. How could he have spoken so boldly? Miss Bowen must have felt quite awkward, and perhaps her words had only been what she had felt she was expected to say. Ichabod wasn't sure how he could face her again and what to say. His behavious had been inexcuseable.
Not the best of mornings, really.
[Open post, half-open door. And SP from me, most likely.]
When anxiety struck practical work was often the best cure, he knew, which was why he was doing laundry in the bathroom sink. That was something he never had to do before, but the lack of servants to do the job -- perhaps there was a 'machine' for it, but Ichabod was not in the mood for experiments -- had forced him to make an attempt on his own. He had tried using the shower to do it, but that had only resulted in completely soaking his only clean shirt. So now the bathroom for was almost flooded, the sink was full of laundry, and a shirtless Ichabod was trying to deal with the situation.
It didn't help that he couldn't stop thinking about his meeting with Celia on Wednesday. In his mind what he had said was repeating itself over and over, making him even more uneasy. How could he have spoken so boldly? Miss Bowen must have felt quite awkward, and perhaps her words had only been what she had felt she was expected to say. Ichabod wasn't sure how he could face her again and what to say. His behavious had been inexcuseable.
Not the best of mornings, really.
[Open post, half-open door. And SP from me, most likely.]