October 21st, 2006


The bad thing about living in a place that's so empty is you feel obliged to keep it clean

Yes, it's a Saturday morning and I've postponed going out almost an hour now in favor of doing housework. Where is my brain, really? But I'm four days behind on dishes and I'm tired of looking at the grit on the cream colored carpet. Thus, dishes, vacuuming, and a quick lesson in how to use my washing machine.

Last night wechsler and I went to see Metamorphosis at the Lyric Hammersmith. It was cool to go to a theater in walking distance of my work, and it was also neat to be at a show that was utterly and completely sold out. To my amusement, a great number of the audience appeared to be high school kids, apparently seeing it as part of a class assignment. They cheered pretty wildly at the end, and I can't blame them; it was, physically speaking, a bravado performance, with the lead actor crawling around the walls, hanging upside down and such, in a set that was specially created to be a jungle gym (the upper half was a bedroom as seen from above, with holes cut into the walls that he used as hand-holds, and the "chair" and "lamp stand" clearly bolted into the frame of the stage so he could swing off of them). We both found the acting rather wooden and the whole thing absurd and lacking in subtlety, which perhaps was its intention; the teenaged girls, according to the usher, "very much liked his body." Ah, youth.

Then afterwards I had my usual Friday night boo hoo and sadness. Dang it. I'm looking forward to shadowdaddy getting the heck over here so I don't go missing him all the time.

For now, the weather is lovely, though it's making me insanely frustrated because ALL THE WINDOWS IN THE FRONT ROOM HAVE BEEN PAINTED SHUT. Muppets. But I'm ready for my walk now, Mr. DeMille. To the Wildlife Center, shall we?

Saturday goes out, not with a bang but a whimper

After my lovely walk along the Thames this afternoon, I got a call from shadowdaddy while I was on my way to Streatham, and most of my good mood evaporated while I listened to him talk about how wretched the whole end of moving thing was.

I really can't go back this weekend and get things finished up with him. I don't really know what else I'm supposed to do to make things better. It's quite a downer when even words of encouragement are received as poorly as mine were. It's not like I can tell him to just please not bother, I'll just buy all new clothes and not ask about anything of mine I didn't take with me, and he can just stay and let his life be the same as it was. It's just all too late for that. I've already ruined the possibility of him staying and having things be the same for him.

I spent the night in the company of friends watching New Legend of Shaolin, which I enjoyed, and we ate some pizza. It was hardly a sexy way to spend my Saturday, but relaxing is as good a thing to accomplish as anything else. And like I said to wechsler today, times like these are like money in my pocket, valuable in the currency that is getting pleasure out of my life. I mean, really, what will matter to me when I'm dead? Certainly not all of those hours I spent writing test cases and arguing with people at work. Hiding under an oak tree in the sideways flying rain is something I can pull out of my chamber of memories forever, and this is the gold I wish to lay aside in its treasure house.
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