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Roofers being slated to come today and workmen in general being dismissive of my street's 'no outside parking before 10' rule, I was early to a doped bed and early to rise when I heard the crash bang blam of a dumpster being unloaded. Half-wondered where they'd put it-- there are many cars parked on the street at 9 a.m., but it sounded a bit loud to have been deposited on next door's semi-landscaped front yard. (It's mosty wood chips but there's a band of greenery at the sidewalk edge: irises in theory, quackgrass in practice.) But I was busy with my stretch and strengthen routine so didn't get up to check. And then comes a text from He-NND the owner, saying the company got their bookings confused and won't be coming till the 16th. By which time it might have stopped raining. Or not. And as for the crash bang blam, deponent knoweth not.
Too hot to go out today and house cool from overnight use of the window AC (and am wondering if that has to come out for the roof to be done, but no one's said anything so far) so I stayed in and read Golden Age mystery short stories. Editor of these anthologies apologetically notes when authors are reflecting the prejudices of the time, but omits the truly hair-raising examples. So far it's been one Japanese character with slightly imperfect English, and an Australian police detective who's half Aborigine and thus a genius tracker while his white half allows him to make rational deductions, and whose existence alone is a bit blinkety-blink from all I've heard of 1930s Australian attitudes. Well, and Sayers of course with her lisping Jewish money lenders, but that's a known pitfall of Sayers and not the least of her sins, by me. (Sayers like L.M. Montgomery is an arch-Hideous Example of the suck fairy at work. When Agatha Christie said in exasperation how much she loathed Poirot and then asked Sayers, Don't you get tired of Wimsey?, Sayers would never have answered yes, because she was besotted by him.)
Too hot to go out today and house cool from overnight use of the window AC (and am wondering if that has to come out for the roof to be done, but no one's said anything so far) so I stayed in and read Golden Age mystery short stories. Editor of these anthologies apologetically notes when authors are reflecting the prejudices of the time, but omits the truly hair-raising examples. So far it's been one Japanese character with slightly imperfect English, and an Australian police detective who's half Aborigine and thus a genius tracker while his white half allows him to make rational deductions, and whose existence alone is a bit blinkety-blink from all I've heard of 1930s Australian attitudes. Well, and Sayers of course with her lisping Jewish money lenders, but that's a known pitfall of Sayers and not the least of her sins, by me. (Sayers like L.M. Montgomery is an arch-Hideous Example of the suck fairy at work. When Agatha Christie said in exasperation how much she loathed Poirot and then asked Sayers, Don't you get tired of Wimsey?, Sayers would never have answered yes, because she was besotted by him.)