Sitting in the parlor
Oct. 7th, 2002 08:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
magidEating bread and honey. Well, it was my office. But that was all I ate at work today. Wasn't interested in anything else. I managed to be partly productive at work, getting things done that I'd promised, but spacing about a meeting (though no one called when I was late, either).
I can't tell if it's early days on this cold, or it's fading. I keep noticing the difference between an actually sore throat and one that is dry, but not actually sore. Perhaps it will not grow?
Actually, it's been a good day. I had some thoughtful email conversations, and I came home to find a surprise package from my currently Texas-based friend: a card that made me laugh out loud (how often do you see a lizard in a sombrero?), a recipe for a fruit slump (Slumps are an old-fashioned kind of fruit dessert. Really.), and a kid's book with awesome cover art that I'm not letting myself read until I thank to her (I owe her a call, even before this).
Though I haven't done any of the tasks that could've been done around the house, I managed to assemble a vegan dinner that I was pleased with (pantry cooking, again: leftover rice, black beans, corn, buttercup squash, slivered almonds, salsa. weird but what I wanted.), and read some comfortable old kid books. And now I sit here feeling vaguely French, with the sounds of bistro accordion music from next door mixing with the occasional cries of the new human downstairs who hasn't figured out many skills yet, so is keeping the crying polished, as it were. All I need is a red checked tablecloth, a candle stuck in an empty wine bottle, and some country French food. Hm. I suppose that's a lot.
I can't tell if it's early days on this cold, or it's fading. I keep noticing the difference between an actually sore throat and one that is dry, but not actually sore. Perhaps it will not grow?
Actually, it's been a good day. I had some thoughtful email conversations, and I came home to find a surprise package from my currently Texas-based friend: a card that made me laugh out loud (how often do you see a lizard in a sombrero?), a recipe for a fruit slump (Slumps are an old-fashioned kind of fruit dessert. Really.), and a kid's book with awesome cover art that I'm not letting myself read until I thank to her (I owe her a call, even before this).
Though I haven't done any of the tasks that could've been done around the house, I managed to assemble a vegan dinner that I was pleased with (pantry cooking, again: leftover rice, black beans, corn, buttercup squash, slivered almonds, salsa. weird but what I wanted.), and read some comfortable old kid books. And now I sit here feeling vaguely French, with the sounds of bistro accordion music from next door mixing with the occasional cries of the new human downstairs who hasn't figured out many skills yet, so is keeping the crying polished, as it were. All I need is a red checked tablecloth, a candle stuck in an empty wine bottle, and some country French food. Hm. I suppose that's a lot.