Humid; anxiety dream; kitten note

It really isn't the heat, it's the way the sweat sticks to me, and keeps regenerating. Yes, I know that's what it's supposed to do--but it's supposed to evaporate and cool me down, not just sit there.

I had an annoying dream last night, about having not finished--or even started--a homework assignment, in a college social studies class [1], which I was supposed to write in rhymed verse, ABAB stanzas, and mine kept wanting to be rhymed couplets instead. And then I was at some kind of outdoor college-sponsored gathering, and they had swooped down and taken all our backpacks away to be claimed later: enough later that I wouldn't be able to get my papers out and finish the work before class. I was more worried, however, about its containing my all-purpose notebook, and the risk that someone might read the more personal diary entries. That may be connected to a coworker having told me that she'd accidentally put a diary-type file on the public servers at work.

On the other hand, I did sleep late, in real life as well as in the dream. Now, I suppose I ought to get to some of the editorial work that I suspect the dream was reminding me of. But I just want to play around online, perhaps because I'm netless at work. Or perhaps just because it is so hot and sticky.

Also, cattitude thinks that Julian may be allergic to dairy, so we're going to keep him off dairy for a week or so and see whether he stops sneezing. He was not happy to be deprived of his already-accustomed share of my yogurt this morning.

[1] I know, but the default subject for school anxiety dreams is social studies. I don't know why.

Humid; anxiety dream; kitten note

It really isn't the heat, it's the way the sweat sticks to me, and keeps regenerating. Yes, I know that's what it's supposed to do--but it's supposed to evaporate and cool me down, not just sit there.

I had an annoying dream last night, about having not finished--or even started--a homework assignment, in a college social studies class [1], which I was supposed to write in rhymed verse, ABAB stanzas, and mine kept wanting to be rhymed couplets instead. And then I was at some kind of outdoor college-sponsored gathering, and they had swooped down and taken all our backpacks away to be claimed later: enough later that I wouldn't be able to get my papers out and finish the work before class. I was more worried, however, about its containing my all-purpose notebook, and the risk that someone might read the more personal diary entries. That may be connected to a coworker having told me that she'd accidentally put a diary-type file on the public servers at work.

On the other hand, I did sleep late, in real life as well as in the dream. Now, I suppose I ought to get to some of the editorial work that I suspect the dream was reminding me of. But I just want to play around online, perhaps because I'm netless at work. Or perhaps just because it is so hot and sticky.

Also, cattitude thinks that Julian may be allergic to dairy, so we're going to keep him off dairy for a week or so and see whether he stops sneezing. He was not happy to be deprived of his already-accustomed share of my yogurt this morning.

[1] I know, but the default subject for school anxiety dreams is social studies. I don't know why.

Birthdays

Happy birthday laurel! It sounds as though you've been having a good time with it.

Also, an early happy birthday to eleanor and opportunitygirl, since I may not get to post in the next couple of days.

Birthdays

Happy birthday laurel! It sounds as though you've been having a good time with it.

Also, an early happy birthday to eleanor and opportunitygirl, since I may not get to post in the next couple of days.

The virtues of poetry

I have just cheered myself up by rereading John M. Ford's "Cosmology: A User's Manual." Not everything in that anthology (Heat of Fusion) is so cheerful, though most of it is intelligent and often allusive.

The virtues of poetry

I have just cheered myself up by rereading John M. Ford's "Cosmology: A User's Manual." Not everything in that anthology (Heat of Fusion) is so cheerful, though most of it is intelligent and often allusive.

Our refrigerator isn't

Sometime today, our refrigerator stopped refrigerating. The good news is that it waited long enough that cattitude was able to cook, and all of us to eat, a fine roast chicken dinner. We currently have a few things stashed in a cooler, with an emphasis on getting me out the door tomorrow functional and with lunch available: hence, some cooked chicken in a ziploc bag, an unopened quart of milk, and an unopened quart of yogurt. Also the ginger paste, because it was so much of a nuisance to find, and a stick of butter on general principles. Watermelon, blueberries, onions, and various jams are being trusted to survive for a little while on their own.

It's possible that ice got into a piece of the machinery, in which case the problem will resolve itself, at the cost of the contents of our refrigerator and freezer. If not, Cattitude will track down the super and arrange for a new fridge--the landlord, not us, owns and maintains the appliances.

Also, there's a sign up next to the elevator, dated today, saying there will be no hot water "12 a.m. to 12 p.m." because of boiler repair. We have no idea of what the person who posted this (who has a dubious grasp of English) meant by that--midnight to noon, or noon to midnight? We're guessing, though it doesn't say, that it will be tomorrow. Assuming, of course, that this isn't just some bored person's idea of a joke.

Our refrigerator isn't

Sometime today, our refrigerator stopped refrigerating. The good news is that it waited long enough that cattitude was able to cook, and all of us to eat, a fine roast chicken dinner. We currently have a few things stashed in a cooler, with an emphasis on getting me out the door tomorrow functional and with lunch available: hence, some cooked chicken in a ziploc bag, an unopened quart of milk, and an unopened quart of yogurt. Also the ginger paste, because it was so much of a nuisance to find, and a stick of butter on general principles. Watermelon, blueberries, onions, and various jams are being trusted to survive for a little while on their own.

It's possible that ice got into a piece of the machinery, in which case the problem will resolve itself, at the cost of the contents of our refrigerator and freezer. If not, Cattitude will track down the super and arrange for a new fridge--the landlord, not us, owns and maintains the appliances.

Also, there's a sign up next to the elevator, dated today, saying there will be no hot water "12 a.m. to 12 p.m." because of boiler repair. We have no idea of what the person who posted this (who has a dubious grasp of English) meant by that--midnight to noon, or noon to midnight? We're guessing, though it doesn't say, that it will be tomorrow. Assuming, of course, that this isn't just some bored person's idea of a joke.