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ontologyNot much on which to update, other than my physical, which went nicely, and I learnt how to fill out paperwork like a grown-up. (I sort of like filling out paperwork, or at least the crisp, comfortable sight of long rows of facts and check-marks.) I answered a lot of questions, met my new doctor (whom I like), and she gave me some medicine to counteract my too-frequent random nausea. Then there was cheap candy at the hospital gift shop (you guys, they have peppermint Lindt truffles), and some erranding, which was fairly uninteresting, except the stop at the old Goodwill site, which now sells a lot of books and games and toys -- I found a paperback copy of Coraline, and a delightfully vintage library copy of Mara, Daughter of the Nile, so I have a copy to take away with me when I don't live here anymore. (Divvying up the books is going to be hard when I move out. Mum and I have been arguing for the past several years about who gets to keep which books. The schoolbooks I am especially attached to, I argue, are mine; she bought them for me. Yes, she tells me, she bought them, and anyway my siblings will probably use most of them in their future schooling.)
And: pictures of my shiny new clothes, because I said there might be them.
There is a lot of detail on the trenchcoat which you cannot see very well -- the double-breasting, for one, and there are tabs with buttons around the sleeves, and up on the shoulders. I feel quite grand walking about in it, and it is very nice for a light autumn coat (and doesn't get in the way on the Angelmobile, either). The pattern on the dress goes all the way round the skirt, which is spiffing. There are also pinstripes apparently invisible at this size. Also: I do not mean to look so morose in these pictures, but one tends not to remember to smile right away when one is balancing one's camera on a make-shift tripod composed of a patio table with a chair on top and then hurrying very quickly to the other side of the yard.
Other thing: it is about to be Crunch Time, to which I am not especially looking forward. I am looking forward to this week being done with and getting to know the new house. I like unpacking; it is more leisurely, you know where to put things (mostly), nothing goes away, and you rediscover things. I want my loft, gorrammit! I am not looking forward to long days of putting things into boxes and then putting the boxes in other places, mostly the front porch and the garage. I am very much not looking forward to picking up heavy things and lugging them out of the house and putting them into a large truck. I do want to go inside the new house; I haven't been in yet, just climbed on top of things and looked furtively in the windows. (I AM A SPY. AND HEY, THERE IS SPACE FOR A GARDEN. OUTSIDE, I MEAN, NOT IN THE HOUSE BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE SILLY.)
And: pictures of my shiny new clothes, because I said there might be them.
There is a lot of detail on the trenchcoat which you cannot see very well -- the double-breasting, for one, and there are tabs with buttons around the sleeves, and up on the shoulders. I feel quite grand walking about in it, and it is very nice for a light autumn coat (and doesn't get in the way on the Angelmobile, either). The pattern on the dress goes all the way round the skirt, which is spiffing. There are also pinstripes apparently invisible at this size. Also: I do not mean to look so morose in these pictures, but one tends not to remember to smile right away when one is balancing one's camera on a make-shift tripod composed of a patio table with a chair on top and then hurrying very quickly to the other side of the yard.
Other thing: it is about to be Crunch Time, to which I am not especially looking forward. I am looking forward to this week being done with and getting to know the new house. I like unpacking; it is more leisurely, you know where to put things (mostly), nothing goes away, and you rediscover things. I want my loft, gorrammit! I am not looking forward to long days of putting things into boxes and then putting the boxes in other places, mostly the front porch and the garage. I am very much not looking forward to picking up heavy things and lugging them out of the house and putting them into a large truck. I do want to go inside the new house; I haven't been in yet, just climbed on top of things and looked furtively in the windows. (I AM A SPY. AND HEY, THERE IS SPACE FOR A GARDEN. OUTSIDE, I MEAN, NOT IN THE HOUSE BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE SILLY.)
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Date: 2008-09-23 06:01 am (UTC)Realizing that I would not be allowed to carry all of the books in the house away with me when I grew up (ha!) is what spurred me into the compulsive book buying frenzy that still controls me today--It was suddenly of the utmost importance that I have my own copy of things, and the very same editions if I could find them (I searched forever for the right copy of The Wind in the Willows, only to find it in a used bookstore on Portobello Road for next to nothing). And then I just...never stopped. And now I could build a small house out of my books. o.0
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Date: 2008-09-25 02:42 am (UTC)I am very pleased to discover that while my new-old copy of Mara is seemingly a very different edition, hard-cover, library discard, very sixties, it also seems to have been set with the exact same type as the paperback copy I know and love, meaning everything is in exactly the right place and I don't have to re-learn the physical landscape of the book!!
You should build a small house out of your books! But inside, where they won't get wet.