South Park Self

in the kingdom of the blind

Time seems to go awfully fast when you're tired. I mean, it's October already, and the end of the semester, with its associated expectation of my return to work, is looming ominously. I feel as though I've hardly been at home for any time at all, and I certainly haven't achieved a fraction of the things I thought I would.

Given that I have been lurking in my study for whole chunks of the day (i.e. when not collapsed on the sofa), and will continue to do so for a few weeks yet, it's just as well that my study is a nice place to lurk. Last year's Return of the Bride of the Revenge of the Army of Reconstruction achieved wonders in the way of extra space, a lovely built-in desk and acres of shelving which fended off the book crisis for at least a couple of months. (It's back in full swing. I estimate that the separate piles of books all over the study rack up to about four metres of height.) In the last few weeks, though, the finishing touches have been applied: I scored a perfectly spontaneous kelim rug, courtesy of Vi, in appropriate size and shades, and today the Evil Landlord actually put up the wooden blinds I ordered for the window about three weeks ago and which have been languishing in a corner of the study in a sort of quantumly indetermined state occasioned by the wrong size of screws. The result is, though I say so myself, luvvely.

Please note (a) the inevitable Hobbit, who has for once abandoned his little ottoman hobbit-throne in order to lie heavily on the pile of papers in my in-tray, and (b) the plethora of Ursula Vernon artworks. The blind is lovely, all wooden and warm-toned, and it allows me to adjust it so I can look out of the window and watch my tomato plants visibly stretching skywards in the current ridiculously warm weather. It certainly beats the hell out of the previous "blind" arrangement, which consisted of a fast-fading Malawian cappulana, featuring black and blue butterflies, draped over the burglar bars.

Now that I have this perfect working space, all I need to do is some work. Hmmm. The weekend has been a washout owing to toothache, but these excuses are starting to wear a bit thin.
  • Current Mood: sore the revenge of the teeth
The Hobbit still has that air of regal-yet-slightly-miffed. As though he is a Nigerian prince accidentally turned into a tabby by a sorcerer.
My irony-detector is going "bing!"

Actually, mostly that rug provides a happy Hobbit hunting ground, he likes to dash down the passage, land on the rug, slide it into runkles in a corner, and then disembowel it enthusiastically for ten minutes. It's a matter of time before I trip over a runkle and kill us both.
Nope, no irony. That is an awesome rug. And I simply couldn't resist quoting The Dude.

Also: Runkle - my new favourite word :-)

I have several cats who go with that rug more or less beautifully. Hobbit and Todal tone particularly well, and are alike in their obvious belief that I imported it for no other reason than to give them something to lie on to maximum aesthetic effect.