Aug. 21st, 2014

blamebrampton: 15th century woodcut of a hound (Default)
Picture a short, dark-haired woman, smeared with dust and newsprint, with a right ankle roughly the size and shape of a softball (old injury, reminding me it hates me), a back that was great a month ago, less so now, bruises that make me look as though I have taken up some strange sport that involves throwing small, hard balls at one's limbs (not those balls) and STILL MORE BOXES OF MAGAZINES TO MOVE!!!!!!

Whatever you have in mind, I am grottier, tireder, and still coughing more like the heroine of a 19th century opera (I seem to have just avoided bronchitis, but all the dust means the post-viral cough has had free rein).

However, tonight, in the new house, we turned on the heater, the toaster, the electric kettle and the dryer ALL AT THE SAME TIME. It's been 14 years since we could do that without flipping a fuse breaker.

The cats are all a little weirded out, but coping; I am desperate to finish moving the last stuff so that I can sleep and sleep and sleep.

With this in mind, my birthday greetings for [livejournal.com profile] ravurian are woefully inadequate. You are a scholar and a gentleman, good sir, and as Katherine Hepburn would say: more power to you! I hope you have a fabulous year, and that we both find cause to say something nice about a politician over the next year. Oh, that's too unlikely, I hope some nice billionaire develops a mad crush on you instead.

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blamebrampton: 15th century woodcut of a hound (Default)
blamebrampton

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