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For when one of us goes on the job, the other hits the hay
I hate wearing masks. I have done it before for medical and other protective reasons, but it sets off some of the same sensory issues as certain textures or kinds of touch and a substrate of my brain just screams chokingly at me the entire time that we can't deal with these sensations and my face needs to be clear now now now now now. I have never even covered my mouth with scarves in winter. At the end of these three or six or nine months, I am either going to be amazingly desensitized or no one is ever going to be able to touch my face again. So I hope the entire goddamn Commonwealth appreciates my sacrifice and also check out these cherry blossoms.
I saw a red-tailed hawk, too, but could not successfully photograph it on either of its perches on the cross-tree of the telephone pole or the corner of the Litchfield Block.
I have a new go-to quote every time I hear that the man in the White House has said anything at all, courtesy of George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart's "The Paperhanger," written for the American Theatre Wing's Lunchtime Follies c. 1942–45: "Isn't it wonderful how they always believe me? It's not as though I kept it a secret—I come right out and tell them what I'm going to do. They just can't believe that anyone can be as big a bastard as I am. You know, you can't tell how far a fellow could go, with a nature like mine."
I saw a red-tailed hawk, too, but could not successfully photograph it on either of its perches on the cross-tree of the telephone pole or the corner of the Litchfield Block.
I have a new go-to quote every time I hear that the man in the White House has said anything at all, courtesy of George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart's "The Paperhanger," written for the American Theatre Wing's Lunchtime Follies c. 1942–45: "Isn't it wonderful how they always believe me? It's not as though I kept it a secret—I come right out and tell them what I'm going to do. They just can't believe that anyone can be as big a bastard as I am. You know, you can't tell how far a fellow could go, with a nature like mine."
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P.
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*hugs*
I quite like many of the things mine does. There are just some aspects of the wiring that are sub-optimal for, like, embodied existence.
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Well, except for -- all right, never mind.
I am reminded of a conversation I just had with Lydy about Nuit. The latter was being extremely sweet and mellow, lying around asking to have her belly rubbed and squinching up her little pointy face in contentment and being all lovey, and Lydy said, "She's a very good girl, except when she is absolutely terrible."
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I understand the relevance of this anecdote, but also: good cat! (As I type, Autolycus has fallen asleep on my wrist, pinning me to the keyboard.)
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Oh, also good cat! I am glad we both have good cats to do what is necessary.
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I think this probably means something about how good, as a percentage, this year is, but I don't know what yet. Mostly I know about dogs, cats, small children and their goodness percentile.
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P.