I won’t set the timer today; there’s a clock on the desktop, for heaven’s sake.
Stripped naked, forced to wear women’s underwear, threatened by dogs. (Maybe it’s a good idea to turn off NPR when I’m writing).
I finished a novel this morning, THE LOVELY BONES. Quite good, though a little too tied up in a bow at the end. I started THE ALIENIST right after, which a coworker lent me more than a month ago. It’s set in nineteenth century NYC, and the author (Caleb Carr) is quite the historical detail buff.
It’s dreary out. There’s nothing at the movies I want to see. Mostly, I’m lazy. Why leave the neighborhood if I don’t have to go to work? (Precious vacation seeping away; only three days left).
I am hibernating, essentially. My big plan for today is to make a version of the beet ravioli at Al Di La, only with the buttery/cheesy beets serving as a pasta topping rather than a filling; I sold my pasta maker at the stoop sale we had to winnow down our belongings and fit into the same apartment. Though parting with it was purely sweet, no sorrow. Like I said, I am essentially motivated by sloth.