The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors (halfshellvenus) wrote,
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors

Pip! Pip! Pip!

That's what was happening outside the kitchen dining-area window last Saturday. This time of year marks the arrival of bunches of little birds that flock to the Christmas camellias clustered there. Some are Oregon juncos, but most are as tiny as finches. I'm not sure what they are, but they like to talk!

Until I go outside to work in the yard, hoping for a closer look. Then they vanish. :(

There was a tie-breaker write-off for Idol last weekend, so I didn't spend either day writing. On Saturday, I did some yard cleanup, mainly weeding and removing volunteer bulbs from one of the areas I've been clearing for the past year. I got half of the walkway done (one side), and took dismaying note of the quantity of weeds and bulb-lets that remain there and in the large lawn circle. The whole reason for de-bulbing was to get landscape-covering down on all that bare dirt for weed prevention, but I'm not quite there yet. God, SO many weeds. All those months of smoke and scorch put me really far behind on the yard. I wondered briefly whether it was too late to plant replacements for things that had died, but we got a freeze warning for Monday night, so that answered THAT question. :(

This stupid summer... Last Thursday, I biked in a sleeveless jersey because the high was 82o. But on Monday, I had to dig through all my stored-away exercise stuff for my WINTER biking clothes, thanks to a high of 54o. It's also why I'm having trouble adjusting to the shorter days—the weather was stuck in incredibly late summer (highs in the 90s just 3 weeks ago) forEVER, so it seemed like we should still have summer daylight too.

With the COVID situation and always working at home, it seems as if time is frozen, which doesn't help either. My office recently decided that huge numbers of us are going to permanently be remote workers, so I had to go in and clean all the stuff out of my desk. 27 years' worth of stuff. It was depressing. It felt as if I was retiring without having agreed to it—like an un-personing process. :(

So I spent most of Sunday trying to put away stuff from the 5 boxes I brought home. 1 1/2 of the boxes were the extra exercise clothes I kept at the office for mid-day workouts. Now I have 50% more clothes than I need, so I separated some out for upstairs storage. I also divided up files for my home office vs. outside storage, and which books to keep or donate. But much of the other stuff... constitutes tiny little pieces of decision-making grief that could take me weeks to resolve. Or maybe that's just me? \o?

Sunday night, I tried some Zombie Skittles I'd bought on Halloween-clearance for fun. I was hoping for some unusual flavors (as you would get with Tropical or Berry Skittles), and thinking I would share them with HalfshellHusband and our son. But I tried an orange one, and... Oh, god. Cantaloupe-y with the nastiness of something like mango, and then the flavor degenerated into what could best be described as "rotten ketchup." Ack! I spit it out and tried to wipe off my tongue, but Ugh. Then I looked at the package. The gimmick was that most of the Skittles would be regular fruit flavors of various kinds, but some of them would unexpectedly taste like biting into a zombie. Bleah! That strikes me as very much the kind of thing that appeals more to boys than girls—grossness for the sake of grossness! Because honestly, what is fun about tasting something awful? And can you imagine developing and refining that flavor? "This is pretty disgusting, but it needs more of a 'rotten blood' taste." Yuck. /o\

And finally, I'm working through a book called The Little Stranger that I am almost certain I've read before. How sad is that, to have written something where a person can be more than halfway finished yet still be thinking, "I've probably already ready this"? Because your book isn't distinctive enough for them to be entirely sure? \o?

Tags: books, cycling, me, office, omg the weather, random, wtf was that?

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