February 14th, 2016


Futility- alright, *modified* futility

A tiresome bout of 'It's my weekend, I will not housekeep!' has been partly defeated today, once I decided that it wasn't worth paying $20 to get into the museum solely to hear a 15 minute concert of Mozart songs. Put dark clothes to the laundry and washed a sinkful of dishes, but did not do the light wash or the dishes from this evening. Cooked the liver in the fridge but did not clean the stove-top after doing so. Vacuumed the kitchen floor but did not wash it. Pumped my bicycle's sadly soggy tires, in time for tomorrow's snow, but did not replace the shower curtain lining.

Started Sorceror to the Crown but also As I Lay Dying (there's nothing like a reading challenge and innate perversity to make me want to read dead white male authors I was never interested in before) as well as Saga and Myth in Ancient Ireland, a slender pamphlet from 1955 already out of date when reprinted in 1972. Both were haled up from the basement this afternoon and fall into the category of 'may eventually read this in my old age.' That would appear to be now. (Faulkner is my mother's book, with her name written in pencil on the flyleaf, having crossed out the name of the previous owner who was her best friend's husband.)

I may have won 14 million in last night's lottery, or one of the 14 1-million dollar prizes, but it's too cold to put on boots and find out.