Rightie. So I seemed to sleep today, lots. I found twoother people who were blogging about Proust and was absurdly excited about this (okay, I was linked to one of them by someone I found on LJ, but hey, she TALKED ABOUT MY PROUST BLOGGING and that rocked my world). (I also found out that there's a book of pictures of turn of the century Paris by Eugene Atget, who rocks, with text by Proust, though sadly not written by him for the book. Whatever, A Vision of Paris, I will own you!) And I bought cold medicine (I ran out of the Benadryl Daytime or whatever it was called) and had my picture taken for my Egyptian visa. I didn't actually leave the house until after four. I was too fried to cook, again, so I asked shadowdaddy to meet me at the Royal Court Chinese restaurant (almost right across from Putney station) for dinner. He took no convincing. We ordered light, only wanting just enough for the two of us and no leftovers. Which reminds me, crap, I need to put the Indian leftovers from Wednesday in the freezer. And then we came home and got ready for the trip. We are both worn out now.
Walking up to the street to the restaurant, I got homesick for going to Chinatown on a Saturday after we'd done a load of yardwork in the morning for a nice filling dim sum treat. Remembering the packed streets, the lines, the chaos, WAH.