Spent the weekend cleaning because someone's visiting next week, and also because I'm at a loose end in this unsatisfactory fall. The latter may explain why I started with rooms S. won't even go into, like my bedroom and the mudroom, and only today proceeded to kitchen, hallway, and bathroom. Much time was spent carrying things from the upstairs to the downstairs and the downstairs to the upstairs, as ever. I flattened all the mudroom boxes that I've been thinking I ought to flatten for the last seven years, carted large bags of throw rugs and curtains to the church drop-off round the corner ('If you haven't used it since the 90s you're not going to now'), and in passing mended several things that have been sitting in the side bedroom for weeks. So go me: but oh! what I would give for a self-cleaning house, or even a ferocious cleaning woman!
Amazingly, the dust allergies have only just started to tickle my nose. You know, I'd settle for a self-dusting house even.
LJ informs me that I did indeed read Tiassa five years ago, but it appears I didn't buy it. There's a nice trade paperback of Iorich, which I *do* remember buying at the time, but of Tiassa not a trace. No matter: library loan will get it to me soon, doubtless before it gets me Vallista. And now I feel the urge to reread Brust again. There are more worthwhile authors, but Brust is painless reading, and he does drop hints that get picked up later-- which puts him ahead of mindless detective fic.