Monthly Archives: February 2004

Is it Tuesday yet?

This has been a frustrating day.

It began when the power went out around midnight last night. Well, it didn’t go off, exactly; it fluctuated in various stages of brownout, setting all the sensitive electric sensors for emergency lights and alarms in the building off at irregular intervals.

By this morning, neither HRH or I had had really decent sleep, and the apartment was stone-cold once again. At various times through the night we had each arisen to unplug power bars and sensitive electronic devices in an effort to protect ourselves from frying expensive stuff. Of course the digital alarm clock wasn’t functioning, due to the lack of continuous power, so we sort of awoke later than we normally do. HRH had begun developing a nasty cold last night, and he was in no shape to squire our goddaugher off to daycare this morning, so I went instead. Of course, the single battery-powered clock we had in the house was half an hour fast, so I discovered on the way to pick her up that I had thirty minutes to kill. I did, with a doughnut and hot chocolate.

After dropping her and her dad off at various places, and having checked the prices on small filing cabinets, I returned home and discovered that the power had still not come back up to any level of useful application. Trusting my intuition, I booted up my laptop on battery power and found an urgent edit sitting in my inbox. This, paired with the book reviews due today, meant that I had to cancel my lunch date with MLG.

The edit’s done, and the book reviews are almost there too; I’ve done longhand work and now that the power is finally back on, I’ve been transferring them to the desktop computer. I took a break earlier to go pick up that parcel which I missed on Friday, only to discover that it hadn’t reached the post office yet.

Yes, it’s been frustrating.

On top of it all, my Owldaughter domain seems to have fallen between the cracks in accounting with my old web host. Skippy came over Friday night and we set up a new hosting space, but my domain still seems to be in limbo – technically still held by my old host, but not paid for (long story, which involves hosting as a gift from someone else whose payment info expired, requiring the substitution of my own info to renew service). I’ve been having problems extracting any sort of useful information from the support team for the last three months, in an attempt to avoid a snarl-up somewhat like this. My efforts have been in vain. (And yes, the lack of return communication was the key reason I chose to take my business elsewhere.) So this has resulted in more frustration.

Now, however, the sun has reached an angle to shine in through the back window, which means that spring is nearly here. I managed to finally get through to my doctor’s office, and as a result I not only have a renewal of my medication, but I also have an appointment to discuss these headaches and worrisome sensitivity to light with her next week.

Perhaps Monday has seemed worse than it actually is simply because it came right after a fantastic Sunday. The class I taught on Norse and Druidic methods of magic was great; the healing ritual I participated in was phenomenal; and on top of it all, I got to game last night too.

Today is just such a… Monday. You know?

Fnyeah. Perhaps Ginger‘s right; we should just declare all of February a holiday.

Un-Birthday Gifts

Ceri, Scott: you guys just rock.

After an afternoon of feeling odd, and frustration about my lift home and the timing thereof, I found a flat-screen monitor and a brand-new light tablet waiting for me. All the weariness and annoyance about the lift vanished.

I love the monitor! It’s so… clear, and not-flickery! I’m waiting to install the light tablet until I have the new computer as well. (New for me, that is. The monitor is also of the new-for-me persuasion.)

Speaking of boxes, the cardboard box that the monitor came in is now occupied by two cats, who meow every once in a while, just for fun. I believe the need to be inside cardboard boxes to be genetically programmed into household felines.

Revolving Doors

I went out this morning to run a couple of errands before an interview at noon. One of those errands involved picking a parcel up at the post office, which I’d missed when delivery was attempted on Tuesday.

When I got home I checked the mail. Sitting there was a new parcel pick-up slip, for the delivery I’d missed while at the post office picking up the original parcel.



Happy Ash Day!

Yes, today marks the first day of the Celtic tree month of Ash.

“It feels more like my birthday today than it did on Monday,” HRH said when he woke me up this morning. “I’m in a great mood.”

That likely has more to do with the thought of cider and Brie than Ash Day, but it tickles him nonetheless.

Concerts, Colds, Camembert

When it it get to be two in the afternoon? Ten to two, to be perfectly specific?

I woke up at six this morning and decided that it was evidently fate. So I got up, appreciated the nice warm sun pouring in the front window for a few minutes, and began editing/writing this damn chapter right away. I think I’m finished. I want to walk away from it for a while, then go back and read it objectively as possible, to see if I can tell what I wrote from what the original author wrote. (I tried to imitate their style of writing. No point in showing them up, right?)

So I’m now going to go huddle under the afghan and a pile of cats with more hot herbal tea. I’ve been drinking bouillon and elderflower tea since I woke up, fighting this dratted cold. I’ve had the shivers even though I turned all the heaters on as high as they’ll go, have two sweaters on, socks and slippers, with the space heater pointed right at me. I did acknowledge before I fell asleep last night that playing the cello whilst in the throes of Early Cold is easier than singing, which I’ve done before as well. It’s less stressful on the throat.

Thanks to everyone for your support regarding yesterday’s concert. Ceri even gave me a generic-string-instrument-shaped box of delicious Mozartkugeln marzipan and hazelnut chocolates as a congratulatory gift, with apologies for not being able to find a Beethoven-themed one. (t! and Paze suggested drawing a scowl and messy hair on the picture of Mozart to make it more Beethoven-y.) Gifts always surprise me. I don’t mean to sound like HRH, but really, people coming to enjoy my concerts are more than enough of a gift for me. I didn’t even get to see my in-laws; I thought they’d rushed off because I’d been grumpy after last week’s concert, but HRH assured me that they just didn’t want to be in the way. Over three hundred people were at this concert; that’s a lot of folks milling about afterwards, so I can understand.

I had a terrific time with my parents afterwards as well. They took us back to their hotel room where they had a bottle of both red wine and white wine, Camembert, mushroom pate, and crackers. (My parents always travel in style.) Then we went out to an Italian restaurant that my family’s been going to as long as I can remember. It’s grown from a tiny one-room little house to a huge multi-room establishment, and they’re in the process of expanding yet again. The house wine, which I remember being nice, just wasn’t as good as my dad’s pinot noir. Apparently my taste is ruined now, and I’ve been hopelessly spoiled.

The new strings on the cello performed wonderfully. One always forgets how good new strings sound: fresh, rich, and mellow. I think it was one of the reasons I enjoyed playing the symphony so much in performance (apart from the fact that a live audience always boosts the quality); the sound issuing from the instrument was so much better than the dull sounds I’d been making up to that point.

Right. Hot tisane and cats, ho.