Verifying Filesystem Integrity
Wooh. Crashed a bit there. Had a really heavy headcold with the fever and the coughing and the raw throat and the semi-comatose, was in no mood to describe it in any detail.
I was inclined to blame it at first on the way I'd so drastically lowered my protein intake, but - now I can think a bit more clearly - it was probably only a factor at most. More relevant perhaps was the fact that I showered and left the house in about ten minutes, still wet and wearing fucking shorts. What was I thinking? This time of year the weather can go from sultry to shivering like that. And like that, it did.
But it's a few days later, and I'm feeling almost well again. In a way actually, I feel good. Almost... too good. Spring is coming on strong, and everything hums with sexuality. I swear, in a supermarket this afternoon I felt a frisson parking a shopping trolley. Life is moving back in and taking over.
Another great thing about Spring of course is nature and wild animals and birds and all that stuff, eating each other. China caught her first mouse today. I'm so proud. Well, as proud as you can be of a soulless born killer torturing a tiny wild creature with big, frightened brown eyes. So that's, you know, only partly proud. It is a breakthrough though. She's such a timorous beastie - the cat I mean - that I was worried she'd be scared of mice. But no, her beautiful natural instincts kick in, and she catches - and proceeds to keep alive - her alloted prey. To all appearances, for her amusement.
And yet from this we get our happy ending. A couple of hours later I'm mowing the lawn and I see the mouse in the grass. Before the mower reaches it fortunately, or the ending would have been less happy - if somewhat more colorful. At first I assume it to be dead, but when I lean in close I see it's still breathing. Hyperventilating might be more the word. Bugger. I really don't want to put another injured mouse out of its pain. But as I pick it up it wriggles and squeals in an apparently quite intact way. Good. While getting rid of mice may be the main point of having China around, it isn't personal.
I release it some way off from the cat's stomping ground. I like the image of a cat stomping. "Go," I say. "Warn the others." OK I didn't. To be honest, I think the odds are against it surviving after that experience, but I wish it well.
I was inclined to blame it at first on the way I'd so drastically lowered my protein intake, but - now I can think a bit more clearly - it was probably only a factor at most. More relevant perhaps was the fact that I showered and left the house in about ten minutes, still wet and wearing fucking shorts. What was I thinking? This time of year the weather can go from sultry to shivering like that. And like that, it did.
But it's a few days later, and I'm feeling almost well again. In a way actually, I feel good. Almost... too good. Spring is coming on strong, and everything hums with sexuality. I swear, in a supermarket this afternoon I felt a frisson parking a shopping trolley. Life is moving back in and taking over.
Another great thing about Spring of course is nature and wild animals and birds and all that stuff, eating each other. China caught her first mouse today. I'm so proud. Well, as proud as you can be of a soulless born killer torturing a tiny wild creature with big, frightened brown eyes. So that's, you know, only partly proud. It is a breakthrough though. She's such a timorous beastie - the cat I mean - that I was worried she'd be scared of mice. But no, her beautiful natural instincts kick in, and she catches - and proceeds to keep alive - her alloted prey. To all appearances, for her amusement.
And yet from this we get our happy ending. A couple of hours later I'm mowing the lawn and I see the mouse in the grass. Before the mower reaches it fortunately, or the ending would have been less happy - if somewhat more colorful. At first I assume it to be dead, but when I lean in close I see it's still breathing. Hyperventilating might be more the word. Bugger. I really don't want to put another injured mouse out of its pain. But as I pick it up it wriggles and squeals in an apparently quite intact way. Good. While getting rid of mice may be the main point of having China around, it isn't personal.
I release it some way off from the cat's stomping ground. I like the image of a cat stomping. "Go," I say. "Warn the others." OK I didn't. To be honest, I think the odds are against it surviving after that experience, but I wish it well.