More randomness
Jun. 7th, 2007 11:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ellarienIt wasn't too hot today. It was even, in the evening when I ended up waiting more than half an hour for the bus, quite pleasant to be outside. Tomorrow, alas, it's slated to be in the high 90's again.
My long-standing elderly neighbor's things were being moved out at the weekend. (He hasn't been around much for a while; the last time I saw him, a couple of months ago, he told me that he was moving in with his niece due to deteriorating health.) I think the last couple of days someone has been cleaning his apartment; the fumes of cleaning fluids are finding their way in here by the same mysterious means that cooking and smoke smells do.
I saw a young woman on campus yesterday with her hair in a braid that fell to her knees. If I'd been her, I might have lopped off the last foot or so to avoid straggliness, but it was still impressive. The longest bits of mine, unbraided -- I never did get the hang of braiding my own -- are about to my waist, but it really needs a few inches trimmed.
The novel continues to progress, slowly and steadily; the protagonist now has a computer account. Most of tonight's words were done on the Palm; for some reason I couldn't make myself sit down in front of the big computer, but that doesn't mean that words can't flow. (If I'm really in the mood I can write standing up in crowded public places; if I'm really not, then no amount of sitting in the official writing chair is going to help; there are intermediate states when reasonable comfort and some kind of words-to-electrons device will do the trick.)
I haven't seen my everyday rings since I got back from Hawaii, but they must be around here somewhere.
My long-standing elderly neighbor's things were being moved out at the weekend. (He hasn't been around much for a while; the last time I saw him, a couple of months ago, he told me that he was moving in with his niece due to deteriorating health.) I think the last couple of days someone has been cleaning his apartment; the fumes of cleaning fluids are finding their way in here by the same mysterious means that cooking and smoke smells do.
I saw a young woman on campus yesterday with her hair in a braid that fell to her knees. If I'd been her, I might have lopped off the last foot or so to avoid straggliness, but it was still impressive. The longest bits of mine, unbraided -- I never did get the hang of braiding my own -- are about to my waist, but it really needs a few inches trimmed.
The novel continues to progress, slowly and steadily; the protagonist now has a computer account. Most of tonight's words were done on the Palm; for some reason I couldn't make myself sit down in front of the big computer, but that doesn't mean that words can't flow. (If I'm really in the mood I can write standing up in crowded public places; if I'm really not, then no amount of sitting in the official writing chair is going to help; there are intermediate states when reasonable comfort and some kind of words-to-electrons device will do the trick.)
I haven't seen my everyday rings since I got back from Hawaii, but they must be around here somewhere.
