![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Read a really bad horror novel called The White Devil that was an almost bestseller, and agented by my boyfriend Simon Lipscar. Thought, Baby, you know you can write this asshole under the table.
All right, then. Getting serious.
###
With the advent of the seriously cold weather, my fingers have swollen up like bloated little sausages. I have to keep reminding myself sometimes: You’re sixty. (Well. Not officially till April but you get the general drift.) When you’re sixty, the warranties on the various parts start to fail.
Except for my teeth which are in horrible shape, I’m in remarkably good health for my age. I’ll probably live till 90 in full possession of my mental faculties, God help me. But this finger swelling is a reminder: You’re a geezer, babe. It’s probably something called chilblains. Secondary to the fact that I don’t think to put on my gloves when I go outside or maybe because I hate running the dehumidifier in the house so the walls etc are always covered with a thin layer of damp. Damn! I hate fucking winter.
I suppose it could also be arthritis but the fact that it came on so suddenly with the cold, and that it also came on last year with the cold, and that it wasn’t in evidence at all during the long, warm months of spring, summer, fall makes me think not.
I went to the Dollar Store, bought a pair of gloves, cut the fingers midway. Now I wear them all the time, like a Dickensian scrivener.
###
Did not do nearly enough scut work yesterday.
Also, the Garrison Keillor lookalike abruptly reemerged from the shadows yesterday and wants to take me out again. I don’t actually like him very much, but hey! it’s a free meal and a little vacation from the thoughts going round and round and round in my head like socks in the drier.
Also another mid-summer abortive romance emerged from the shadows – what is it about this time of year? Are people in some kind of frenzy so they can add you to their Year End list? He wants to take me to dinner on January 11, 2012. I kid you not: He called me up and that’s the date he proposed. I laughed and quoted Julius Caesar:
There is a tide in the affairs of men
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
But sure. Why the hell not?
In other words: Go through the motions…
All right, then. Getting serious.
With the advent of the seriously cold weather, my fingers have swollen up like bloated little sausages. I have to keep reminding myself sometimes: You’re sixty. (Well. Not officially till April but you get the general drift.) When you’re sixty, the warranties on the various parts start to fail.
Except for my teeth which are in horrible shape, I’m in remarkably good health for my age. I’ll probably live till 90 in full possession of my mental faculties, God help me. But this finger swelling is a reminder: You’re a geezer, babe. It’s probably something called chilblains. Secondary to the fact that I don’t think to put on my gloves when I go outside or maybe because I hate running the dehumidifier in the house so the walls etc are always covered with a thin layer of damp. Damn! I hate fucking winter.
I suppose it could also be arthritis but the fact that it came on so suddenly with the cold, and that it also came on last year with the cold, and that it wasn’t in evidence at all during the long, warm months of spring, summer, fall makes me think not.
I went to the Dollar Store, bought a pair of gloves, cut the fingers midway. Now I wear them all the time, like a Dickensian scrivener.
Did not do nearly enough scut work yesterday.
Also, the Garrison Keillor lookalike abruptly reemerged from the shadows yesterday and wants to take me out again. I don’t actually like him very much, but hey! it’s a free meal and a little vacation from the thoughts going round and round and round in my head like socks in the drier.
Also another mid-summer abortive romance emerged from the shadows – what is it about this time of year? Are people in some kind of frenzy so they can add you to their Year End list? He wants to take me to dinner on January 11, 2012. I kid you not: He called me up and that’s the date he proposed. I laughed and quoted Julius Caesar:
There is a tide in the affairs of men
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
But sure. Why the hell not?
In other words: Go through the motions…
