This time, the discharge paperwork was all done by 11:30. Soren met me, we got prescriptions filled, had lunch (sushi, and my appetite is now about a quarter of what it was), and came home. I have tried to catch up on email and LJ and DW, but in a universe in which Soren can forget to tell me that one of his sisters got married on Sunday, there's no way I can keep up. So, fill me in on the vital bits, please?

I am on horrific antibiotics, as the first three were sneered at by the seroma; the fourth and fifth quelled it. I am now on one of them orally, and the closest equivalent to the other one orally, to make sure the seroma is thoroughly squelched.

Soren is being wonderful, of course... okay, I say "of course" because wonderful is his default state, not because I take him for granted. Anyway, we are working on plans for the next two weeks; people have offered to come over and help in various ways, and life looks endurable.

Tags: health, home life, soren
admissable state: tired

Getting a bit giddy with the cleaning, perhaps. I started with the goal of clearing my corner desk -- which, for the record, has lived in the middle of the living room since we moved, and for all but perhaps forty-five days of that time, has been too cluttered for me to actually use as a desk -- and have progressed to moving my computer table, rearranging bookshelves, and deciding that, since I've been writing by hand at my lap desk happily, that the poor corner desk has outlived its usefulness. I shall look for a narrow table that could become both a computer and writing table instead.

In working my way through clearing the corner desk and the shelves, though, I have found blank books. I think there's been one in every stack of papers I've sorted through, and the total of unused books is thirty. I'd taken five into the office this week, thinking that one would become my current journal book, and the rest would be given away, but all five went away, as none of them took fountain pen ink to my satisfaction. That's the trouble with notebooks: stores don't have samples of the paper available to test with wet- and dry-write fountain pens, so I never know whether one will work for me until I get it home and can test it. Harrumph.

(Data point for pen and paper geeks: many of the Japanese notebooks -- Maruman, Kokuyo, Oh Boy -- are fountain-pen friendly, with minimal show-through, and narrow rulings. Of course, if Clairefontaine would ever produce a narrow-ruled notebook, I'd buy nothing else -- I adore their smooth, bright white paper.)

So, sorting papers and filing... the decision to discard the corner desk (which I've never quite felt the same about since we dropped 1,500 CDs on it, and broke the drawer fixtures, which have since devoted their time to attempting to slice my thighs open) came after I concluded that I could discard the rubber stamps that a friend gave me, that I've never used. I'd kept them out of sentiment, but they were one of those awkward gifts, of the "I know you like this general sort of thing, but I've never been curious enough to find out more specifics" variety. "While you're discarding things that you don't use," a little voice murmured, "why not take one more step towards decluttering, and chuck the desk? It was good when you had a corner for it, but there isn't one here, and it's not that stable on its own. And you'll stop getting bruises and scratches on your thighs -- wouldn't that be nice?"

Meanwhile, Soren is cleaning, and music is playing, and we're talking about writing, and music, and cheerfully reminding each other to add things to our little books. His is "gratitudes," and mine is "brightnesses," but it doesn't really matter what we call them, does it?

One thing I've found over the past three days of noting things is that there are a lot of brightnesses that remind me of others. A song that Soren introduced me to will bring me to other songs, and to other people who took the time to share music with me, to musicians, to the recording industry, to hearing -- and it takes longer to type that list than it does to think of them.

Tags: domesticity, home life, paper soul, simple joys

"You have a navel; therefore you are a dolphin."
"I gots feet. Dolphins got no feets."
"You are... an orange?"
"Oranges gots no feets."
"You are ... a moose!" (Triumphantly)
"I gots no --" (Makes waggly antler gestures)
"You do now!"
"No, I don't!"
"But you did!"

Yesterday's conversation, accompanied by four out of the five first 5th Dimension albums, was about whether the song should actually be "One fewer bell to answer/one fewer egg to fry...". It's an awkward construction, either way.

It's lovely to live with someone who understands the way my mind works, and can follow my reasoning from the 5th Dimension to The Divine Comedy, and can pick out the songs I would choose to play.

Tags: home life

Well, it started out that way. I decided not to go to the party up in Westchester, for various reasons (not the least of which were my exhaustion and the four-hour-plus commute), then hit a slight funk, and decided to stay in all day.

Soren, however, was industrious: he wrote, then cooked breakfast, then went shopping, and made bean soup. Like most of our cooking, we glanced at a few recipes, talked about it, then wildly improvised. Even though we used the ham bone and internal meat (as opposed to the skin), it still smells of the Chinese five-spice powder he used on the ham. Since I like the smell of five-spice powder, this is a good thing.

(We have avoided the classic definition of eternity ["two people and a ham"] by giving a large wodge of it to Mark; the gods know that one person and a ham that size would be a variant of hell/eternity.)

I spent the day in a not-quite-brood, while Soren puttered about, singing, writing, filling the apartment with good smells and motion. It was a good day, despite the brooding, and turning into a good evening... when I knocked over two CD cases.

You know the two tall ones that half-divide the kitchen from the living room? The ones that have, oh, perhaps fifteen hundred CDs in them combined?

They make a lot of noise when they fall over.

The casualty of the accident, unfortunately, was the sweet corner desk I've had for thirteen years. It took the weight of the two cases and the CDs, and two legs sheared off. But I think it kept the wooden shelves from crushing the CD cases: some of the cases got chipped, but none -- as far as I can tell -- were completely destroyed.

So... I think one of my projects for the next day or two will be re-alphabetizing the C through L section of the CD collection. We've found/refound some interesting things while stacking them: an album Soren thought he only had on vinyl; an album by Veda Hille (Spine) that is lovely, in the Kate Bush/Tori Amos/Happy Rhodes/Mia Doi Todd genre; more Firesign Theater than I thought we had... so there will be more cool music while neatening.

But now I need a new desk. I wonder if Gothic Cabinet Craft even makes the corner desks any more.

Tags: home life, love chronicles

Kitchen of the deSelby apartment: the most noticeable feature is a table with only one-third of the surface usable; the rest is covered with books, pens, papers. Soren is at the computer (yes, there's a computer in the kitchen. deal with it.); Velma is standing over the ironing board, pressing a half-dozen handkerchiefs and her shirt. Background music: The McGarrigle Hour

Singer: Dig my grave both long and narrow
Make my coffin deep and strong...

Velma: Why does he need it long and narrow? Is he a vampire? Is it because he doesn't want to get out? Is it because he wants leverage climbing out?

Soren: looks slanchwise at Velma, raises one eyebrow, says nothing

Singer: Dig my grave both long and narrow
Make my coffin deep and strong...

Velma: And you're awfully picky, buddy. What do you care how deep your coffin is? You're dead.

Soren: smiles, types

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Not that I would corrupt the youth of America (much), she said casually, but if I were to bring a book of werewolf erotica to Rose's, would someone be interested in borrowing it?

Just curious....

Tags: domesticity, family, home life, simple joys