April 5th, 2015

goujun_final

Winsome, losesome pt 2

One is not supposed to drink on the pain meds I'm on, or any other med either; but I don't care. Yesterday was Easter dinner next door, lamb and roast potatoes and asparagus, and I was abstemious with the wine (the vertigo that results from over-indulgence is its own disincentive) and I had a lovely time with my s-i-l's young adult grandchildren. Did fall asleep very early, to awake at midnight; did have obscurely distressing dream about living in New Mexico when I fell back asleep, which I put down to dehydration; did wake somehow a whole kilo heavier; but otherwise, no regrets.

In what passed for warmer weather last week, the front lawn trading post reopened and I scrounged various ex-Ikea items that might serve as upright shelf holders for my aged, sprung, bookcases. (Not the Ikea ones themselves, actually, which are still pretty sturdy 25 years later. The study ones, which I think are Semblit, that have expanded somehow so that the grommets that the shelves rest on are usually a silly millimetre too far away, no matter how one tightens things, and shelf then collapses. For longer than I can say, the shelves have been held up by the tallest books.) Alas, sturdy Ikea doesn't come apart that easily, and I was despondent. But on my morning walk today I found eight 15x13" shelves from I know not what, and ran back for the bike to carry them home.
Collapse )
And of course I'm desolate. I am a cat. Now nothing is where I've been used to seeing it for at least the last ten years, if not longer. Including all those grammars that stood on the side table, back when I used to translate. I can see the dictionaries migrating back, at least, because now they seem a long way away.

(We won't mention the anxiety of what to do with the unneeded thumpers like the Columbia Encyclopedia from 1960, a Larousse from 1975, a deceased friend's thesis on Byron- and, well, stuff like that. I suppose there's always the recycle...)