I love Valentine’s Day! My birthday has been survived, mortality prod that it is. Flowers and hearts! Two of my favorite things. Love my computer and everything on it. Love my life and everything in it. So on and so forth.
I don’t know why I haven’t been writing, but maybe now I will. I probably needed a resting phase, like all green shoots nestled under a snow blanket outside. It’s a gathering phase, a healing pause. Guilt is everywhere, of course, just like dust. I have learned to live with dust, and I occasionally like to attack it with a can of Spanish furniture spray from the dollar store. In some places, maids have to bring their own cleaning supplies, and if it were me, I’d buy the cheapest products with the loudest scents so The Lady would know I truly did my job.
We all live in our own cosy worlds, little circles of light and activity, repeated round and round until fate steps in. There is a stinkbug on my lampshade, and I am uneasy.
Tonight at midnight, Cheaper & Better will once again be free for 24 hours! It’s a great chance to get all the recipes for all the thousands of things you buy in the stores. You will save thousands in return, so it’s a great deal! 🐔
And now, as promised yesterday, here’s the rest of the story. Once upon a time, people got their news from papers. Delicate, fragile, tissue-thin and smeary; rich people wore gloves when touching them, after a servant had ironed the pages. These news-papers were cheap and plentiful and vast forests all over the globe were chopped down so that the news could be distributed day in and day out and more than twice a day in big cities.
So newspapers were cheap and plentiful, a proletarian textile.
I’ve been having a hard time doing more than the minimal for the last few days. Each day there’s a small accomplishment, but there have been no grand plans or big projects, and that feels worrying. I must be in a brooding period, a patient wait as the drips and the tocks add up. I feel gratitude for the peace, and I’m not complaining, but almost. OK, a tiny complaint: Trump is driving me mad.