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Yesterday was the last guaranteed dry and blowy day, so I played Clothesline Roulette with the cherry tree and the birds. Lost two shirts to the cherries, by the look of it: dark stains that I immediately took dish detergent to. But my sleep shirt dried intact, in time for heat returning tomorrow. I give the cherries another week: they've largely been pecked at, but half-eaten squashy ones still litter my back garden.
Discover I have massage tomorrow and not Wednesday, luckily, because Wednesday will be in the mid-30s and possibly raining.
I've read a single Georgette Heyer in my life (the disappointing These Old Shades, because the young lad was not what I thought) but A Civil Contract showed up in someone's Wee Free Library and hell, it's summer, why not. Also my local library branch's computer has been down for days, so none of my holds can get registered and put on the shelf (librarian on Saturday waved a dispirited hand at the field of plastic boxes behind her, all holds waiting for a computer.) Thus I am down to my last two Ann Grangers, and one of them is a slow-moving Inspector Ross, so must make them last.
Speaking of Wee Frees, I'd kind of like to reread the Tiffany Aching books, but hesitate. I read the first one in an unchancy and depressing June a dozen years ago, and I'd rather not be reminded of it. I reread it in an unchancy and anxiety-ridden April ten years ago. I think the only safe time to read the series is the fall.
Discover I have massage tomorrow and not Wednesday, luckily, because Wednesday will be in the mid-30s and possibly raining.
I've read a single Georgette Heyer in my life (the disappointing These Old Shades, because the young lad was not what I thought) but A Civil Contract showed up in someone's Wee Free Library and hell, it's summer, why not. Also my local library branch's computer has been down for days, so none of my holds can get registered and put on the shelf (librarian on Saturday waved a dispirited hand at the field of plastic boxes behind her, all holds waiting for a computer.) Thus I am down to my last two Ann Grangers, and one of them is a slow-moving Inspector Ross, so must make them last.
Speaking of Wee Frees, I'd kind of like to reread the Tiffany Aching books, but hesitate. I read the first one in an unchancy and depressing June a dozen years ago, and I'd rather not be reminded of it. I reread it in an unchancy and anxiety-ridden April ten years ago. I think the only safe time to read the series is the fall.