This Spring Forward has been harder to adjust to than past years, possibly because my sleeping habits were already edging back to 1 or 2 am bedtimes. I finally got tired of lying awake in bed and counting breaths for hours and hours so went back to reading until I got sleepy, which then meant 4 or 5 am, like back in the 90s. My reluctance to sleep is balanced by a reluctance to wake up- understandable when waking means fifteen minutes of stretch before one can even get out of bed- and the result was a lot of little bunnies sleeping in till nearly noon, perfectly happy in the warm softness of wool and pillow, but not very effective.
(Shall note as well a sudden loss of morning appetite. Don't want to eat anything. Result is I end up eating oatmeal for lunch and instead of getting hungry two hours later, as I do when I have breakfast at a semi-reasonable hour, I survive happily till dinner. Since this loses me weight, I'm not going to try correcting it.)
But today I flogged myself out to accomplish, meaning bicycling to Bed Bath and Beyond for flannel pillowcases. The ones my younger bro and s-i-l gave me thirty years ago are barely there anymore; the ones the Magnificent Helen's parents gave me fifteen years ago are soft and threadbare; the brown and green plaid ones that came with the duvet cover in 2007 open in mid-back, which means you can't flip the pillow over. Silly design, and ugy with it.
But BB&B have them on sale this season, and as the store is only just south of College and Yonge, I thought I'd suss them out in person instead of buying online. And yes, well, they're flannel pillow cases in unexceptionable beige or off-white, which go with everything, and a lot better than the reindeer logos in the online store. But oh dear, what a trip to find them.
College and Gerrard both have bicycle lanes, but they also both have condos a-building which, surprise surprise, pre-empt the bicycle lane. So after weaving through traffic on my drunken bike (it lists badly, and March winds don't help) I arrived at Yonge and Gerrard and a big sign for the store- but no entrance into the building except for one that takes you to the food court in the basement. No, one goes round the corner to the main entrance on Yonge and up the escalator, and then gets lost.
The walls of bonny Honest Ed's may be down to the ground, but his spirit lives on in BB&B. 'Come in and get lost!' as his signs used to proclaim, and one does. There's signage but no store map, and section follows section, around corners and into nooks, and cul-de-sacs with ?barbecue equipment? and tchotchkes and scented candels, and at last one finds a body that wrks there and she leads you, because telling is too complicated, to where the flannel pillowcases are: a very small selection.
But pilllows? We have pillows coming out of our ears. Now, one is supposed to repace pillows every 2-3 years, which, if I've paid $200 for a pillow, I do not. But the sirens sang about my ears: the dream of the perfect pillow, that won't hurt one's neck, is alive and well there.
Unfortunately, what I did end up buying was a wooden shoe rack because my old one is dead; and not even the one I wanted, which wouldn't have fit on the bike. Yappari, I should just have transitted over there.
The last Rebus, details already fading, and Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, skimming the last thirty pages to have done with it. Someone on Goodreads characterised it as 'magazine writing', and I see what they mean- a bit glossy, a bit too smooth. Not sure that isn't a side-effect of it being fictionalized fact. Perhaps it would have been more satisfying as pure Gothic; hard to say, because the only literary southerners I ever come across are gothic, and it may annoy the real ones no end, for all I know.
An earlier Rebus, slow as Rebuses always are to pick up speed.
Emma Newman, Between Two Thorns
-- put on hold at library for reasons forgotten, possibly another entry in Weird Britain.
All sorts of good intentions- Eco, Hurston- that will probably yeild to the chronic itch to reread the first two Paarfi books.