a lovely day

drying clothes in London, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

09:45 sleeping day: I left the poor tired creature to sleep. She was curled up very cutely, and the alarms were upsetting her. So I turned them all off, and I hope she will be in the bed for a long long time :) Signed

A large bird flying very close to the open window of the bedroom woke me up. The bloody pigeon was trying to get at my bird feeder, but it's so built that only smaller birds can enjoy it, and as I got up, I chuckled at that. Mirona 1, pigeons zilch.

Even before seeing the sweet note waiting for me on the table, I stopped in the kitchen. Not to get the coffee going, I skip coffee on certain days (we're also out of the beans we like). No, just to start my day with the numbing ritual that manages to start my brain: putting the dried dishes away.

And then I started sorting the cutlery drawer, something that was needed for ages but never urgent. This way, I spotted other things, like the jam jars on a nearby shelf. We hardly ever eat jam, but I decided to try one received as a gift. I then discovered it had run all over the shelf, wiped the shelf, and finally had a taste, curious.

Blimey, O'Reilly! It tasted of oil, not even sure whether for humans or cars. It was so sick, that taste, that it covered the fruit and the sugar and anything else. To the bin it went, and another jar came up, the leftover violet jelly... covered in mould. The bin came handy again.

And so, before my brain was even on, I ended up washing two cute jars of useless content, and tasting OUR jelly for a lasting impression. My, it's good! Not perfect, but surely good, and good enough for a first go at something requiring so much work. And though plenty jars traveled to friends and family in both countries, I haven't heard complaint yet. People could simply be too polite.

Having read the note, I had my first cigarette, noticed the clothes drying in the window across the street, and pondered life in London. In good years (there was only one so far) we dry our clothes outside. Otherwise, they decorate our rooms, spread over doors, lamps, and heaters. Very elegant, don't you think?

Some employ all manners of indoor drying racks, but in London doll-sized flats that seems to me suicidal, at least. Not sure why a king size bed red sheet on my door as I write seems less dangerous. It will be a very happy day indeed when we move to a place made for people rather than pets.

My love made a surprise come back from his event in town, ready to cook lunch for me and bringing the tasty British strawberries, still in their right season of sweetness. But instead of lolling in the bath I had ready, we ended up doing Ocado and updating the main grocery list, which makes us awfully middle class and mannerist foodies.

The lunch was simple, homemade humus and noodles with dried chili, fresh mint, and fish sauce. It brought about more changes in the Ocado order (!) and the thought of Kulu Kulu Sushi, last had in December last year, I believe. So here I am, ready to get dressed for dinner out, having done some work and sorted some errands, and excited to have also gotten two tickets to Synechdoche, New York. Not bad for a day of no plans.

P.S. These posts have gotten longer, OK. What better sign that I can breathe deeply again?