Thing I did not appreciate about today: having to walk over the Longfellow Bridge after dark in nineteen-degree weather that with the wind chill felt like five-degree weather because my alternative was waiting fifteen minutes on an elevated platform for the next train from Charles/MGH and at least if I was in motion, according to the first law of thermodynamics, I was generating heat. Operating by the rules of irony, I fully expected the train to pass me on the bridge. It did not. I reached Kendall/MIT with no competition. I squashed my way onto a Blitz-crowded but mercifully underground platform with a lot of people who had been waiting much longer than I had. We waited some more. I was attempting to return from an appointment to which I had been more than half an hour late because the train had slowed, and slowed, and eventually just stopped between stations, without any announcement of the delay. All during rush hour, in case I did not mention. The MBTA is a shonde. Big news at eleven. I got home late and chilled and very, very sick of Charlie "Not a Virtue Signaler" Baker. I find it easier to believe he doesn't ride the T to work because if recognized by his fellow commuters he'd be removed in a bucket.
Things I did appreciate about today: a couple of useful doctor's appointments, even if I was late for one of them. I am very much enjoying Sylvia Townsend Warner's The Flint Anchor (1954), which I am reminding myself I cannot steal from the library even though it's dead out of print. I caught![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
a_reasonable_man for half an hour at his office and he gave me a present of Nancy S. Seasholes' Walking Tours of Boston's Made Land (2006), which looks like a whole lot of the things that interest me about this city in exactly the way I like to get to know them. I had a ginger-lemon-honey from Burdick's. I am supposed to spend as little time as possible out in the cold right now, but at least winter is a time of year when I can walk at my top speed without overheating. When I finally did get home, spatch and I made a sort of chili with black beans and ground beef and fewer tomatoes than ideal, but plenty of cumin and cayenne and brown sugar; we ate it over English muffins and next time will bake cornbread. He went out later and brought me home a pistachio gelato which I was able to eat without any interference from little cats at all, a minor miracle since I had practically had to pick Autolycus out of my chili. (He successfully got a bite and then attempted to bat the serving spoon out of my hand, whereupon he fled into the bedroom to prove his innocence—must have been some other cat!) Plus I learned that fungal self-healing concrete is a thing.
I am extraordinarily tired, though.
Things I did appreciate about today: a couple of useful doctor's appointments, even if I was late for one of them. I am very much enjoying Sylvia Townsend Warner's The Flint Anchor (1954), which I am reminding myself I cannot steal from the library even though it's dead out of print. I caught
a_reasonable_man for half an hour at his office and he gave me a present of Nancy S. Seasholes' Walking Tours of Boston's Made Land (2006), which looks like a whole lot of the things that interest me about this city in exactly the way I like to get to know them. I had a ginger-lemon-honey from Burdick's. I am supposed to spend as little time as possible out in the cold right now, but at least winter is a time of year when I can walk at my top speed without overheating. When I finally did get home, spatch and I made a sort of chili with black beans and ground beef and fewer tomatoes than ideal, but plenty of cumin and cayenne and brown sugar; we ate it over English muffins and next time will bake cornbread. He went out later and brought me home a pistachio gelato which I was able to eat without any interference from little cats at all, a minor miracle since I had practically had to pick Autolycus out of my chili. (He successfully got a bite and then attempted to bat the serving spoon out of my hand, whereupon he fled into the bedroom to prove his innocence—must have been some other cat!) Plus I learned that fungal self-healing concrete is a thing.I am extraordinarily tired, though.
