One for his knob
Home to feed Calliope who, after greeting me with relief for five minutes, exploded into a flurry of bad behavior including her signature shredding the toilet roll, forbidden ferreting inside the airing cupboard and sitting at my desk to bite into my sleeves and shake her head in the vicious way reserved for the slaughter of small rodents. It is hard not to see this as anything other than simple recrimination at my absence.
Otherwise as my computer is behaving sluggishly, I spent hours running diagnostics, virus checks, checkdisk, defragging, freeing memory, backing things up up etc. all to no avail. Then I filed bills etc. and noticed how almost everything utility is going up next year. Then I took some some time to brood on the futility of life as an unknown writer.
Much improved by returning to Lorraine's house at tea time, eating cold turkey with pickles (including Pat's favourite, pickled walnuts) and bubble and squeak. Cleared the table to play several hands of crib, a game Pat taught me to play a year or so ago. It involves a good deal of counting to fifteen, and if you have a jack the same suit as the card turned over you get an extra point, called one for his knob. Pat and Lorraine revelling in metal arithmetic of it all. While it takes all my brain to tell when things add up to fifteen. Then the fluffy brain blanket of TV before bed.
Home to feed Calliope who, after greeting me with relief for five minutes, exploded into a flurry of bad behavior including her signature shredding the toilet roll, forbidden ferreting inside the airing cupboard and sitting at my desk to bite into my sleeves and shake her head in the vicious way reserved for the slaughter of small rodents. It is hard not to see this as anything other than simple recrimination at my absence.
Otherwise as my computer is behaving sluggishly, I spent hours running diagnostics, virus checks, checkdisk, defragging, freeing memory, backing things up up etc. all to no avail. Then I filed bills etc. and noticed how almost everything utility is going up next year. Then I took some some time to brood on the futility of life as an unknown writer.
Much improved by returning to Lorraine's house at tea time, eating cold turkey with pickles (including Pat's favourite, pickled walnuts) and bubble and squeak. Cleared the table to play several hands of crib, a game Pat taught me to play a year or so ago. It involves a good deal of counting to fifteen, and if you have a jack the same suit as the card turned over you get an extra point, called one for his knob. Pat and Lorraine revelling in metal arithmetic of it all. While it takes all my brain to tell when things add up to fifteen. Then the fluffy brain blanket of TV before bed.
Comments