Spring, Saturday
Apr. 12th, 2003 07:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pameladeanOngoing relationship and financial angst have decided to upgrade from chronic to acute, just for their own amusement. I really do not appreciate this. Have fired off several emails to my agent about my dilatory publisher. Should have done it weeks and weeks ago and more often.
My mother has admired the snowdrops, and given me an IMPEACH BUSH button, which she got from the Green Party booth at the GreenExpo event at the State Fairgrounds this weekend. I put it on at once, and we discussed the situations in which we might not be bold enough to wear it. I went outside, still wearing it, and raked some leaves off the earliest tulips and the crocuses, got bitten by the rosebush, and, while watering the side yard, was hailed by one of our neighbors to the south, who was out on the porch roof cleaning her windows. The storm window of the one she had crawled out of had shut. She asked me if I'd come into her apartment and open the screen of the other one for her. We've talked over our lack of back fence a number of times, mostly about cats and her little dog, Cleo, and about gardening.
I ascertained which door was hers -- it's a duplex -- and went inside. I've always been curious about what the house looks like. It smelled pleasantly of orange-oil cleaner, and, unlike our upstairs, which has painted woodwork, retains its dark woodwork, and has beautifully refinished hardwood floors. Cleo met me, dancing and leaping. I opened the screen, and Linda (I remembered her name, whee) climbed in, saying that she was expecting company, but she had heard them call to say they'd be an hour late, and she was resigned to sitting out on the roof until they got there.
I felt very awkward, not being the most socially adept person, so after reassuring her that her dog had not barked or growled at me, I beat a hasty retreat and ended up in the bathroom instead of on the stairs. She thanked me again, and I said, "What are neighbors for, after all?" and left as fast as I could. Maybe I should live in the middle of nowhere.
When I got back inside and was washing my hands, I glanced in the mirror and realized I was still wearing the IMPEACH BUSH button. The owners of the house have a Wellstone sign enshrined in their front yard, but I have no idea what Linda's politics are. I do wonder if that was why she was so flustered. It could just have been the embarrassment of having locked oneself onto the roof.
There is one pale yellow snow crocus in the neglected area back by the garage, and shoots of several more.
I am going to have to find my gardening gloves or buy new ones before tackling any more yard work. The rosebush sheds thorny bits for a remarkable distance.
I must work on my book tonight. At least my characters have no financial angst at the moment, although there is a great deal of relationship angst in their future.
Pamela
My mother has admired the snowdrops, and given me an IMPEACH BUSH button, which she got from the Green Party booth at the GreenExpo event at the State Fairgrounds this weekend. I put it on at once, and we discussed the situations in which we might not be bold enough to wear it. I went outside, still wearing it, and raked some leaves off the earliest tulips and the crocuses, got bitten by the rosebush, and, while watering the side yard, was hailed by one of our neighbors to the south, who was out on the porch roof cleaning her windows. The storm window of the one she had crawled out of had shut. She asked me if I'd come into her apartment and open the screen of the other one for her. We've talked over our lack of back fence a number of times, mostly about cats and her little dog, Cleo, and about gardening.
I ascertained which door was hers -- it's a duplex -- and went inside. I've always been curious about what the house looks like. It smelled pleasantly of orange-oil cleaner, and, unlike our upstairs, which has painted woodwork, retains its dark woodwork, and has beautifully refinished hardwood floors. Cleo met me, dancing and leaping. I opened the screen, and Linda (I remembered her name, whee) climbed in, saying that she was expecting company, but she had heard them call to say they'd be an hour late, and she was resigned to sitting out on the roof until they got there.
I felt very awkward, not being the most socially adept person, so after reassuring her that her dog had not barked or growled at me, I beat a hasty retreat and ended up in the bathroom instead of on the stairs. She thanked me again, and I said, "What are neighbors for, after all?" and left as fast as I could. Maybe I should live in the middle of nowhere.
When I got back inside and was washing my hands, I glanced in the mirror and realized I was still wearing the IMPEACH BUSH button. The owners of the house have a Wellstone sign enshrined in their front yard, but I have no idea what Linda's politics are. I do wonder if that was why she was so flustered. It could just have been the embarrassment of having locked oneself onto the roof.
There is one pale yellow snow crocus in the neglected area back by the garage, and shoots of several more.
I am going to have to find my gardening gloves or buy new ones before tackling any more yard work. The rosebush sheds thorny bits for a remarkable distance.
I must work on my book tonight. At least my characters have no financial angst at the moment, although there is a great deal of relationship angst in their future.
Pamela
