I cut my fingerclaws too short and then had to fight with the blocked washing machine filter and now every one of my fingertips is red and painful and my knees are soggy with blocked washing machine water, also STOP LEAVING WRAPPERS IN YOUR POCKETS INGRATE CHILDREN.
Current work options: doing impossible and thus frustrating legal research, attempting to resolve intractable Belgian administrative tangle I have already made two very creditable yet failed stabs at resolving, working out who is most likely to sue me re. book. Wow, this last one is fun and not at all likely to lead to 4am dark night of the soul moments, nope. I am taking a lot of magnesium, since francophones believe it to be a kind of natural Xanax, I have gleaned this from my many years of pharmacy window observation. No discernable impact yet but I am keeping the magnesium faith.
My long, long fringe is getting in my eyes and giving me an itchy forehead and I have lost the "product" the hairdresser gave me to help with this.
Glimmers of hope:
I secretly like unblocking the washing machine filter because it makes me feel powerful and competent.
L has his phone back after 3 weeks somewhere in the sous-directeur's bureau (for about 12 hours until I confiscate it, probably, but it's something).
Very satisfactory, if weird, lunch. All freelancer's lunches are weird, I think, or at least I hope. Leftovers, things that need using up, occasional off-piste packets of biscuits, cobbled together deadline-desperation snacks. Sometimes I take pictures of the worst offenders, such as this, recently:
(that artichoke had been in the fridge for literally a month before we were guilted into cooking it and I can tell you that it was a very long way past its best)
Yes, 90% of that meal was M&M cookies and the fish fillet was tepid
I hope you admire my commitment to a token vegetable, even in culinary extremis
Today's: spinach and courgette soup, leftover peas and rice in mustard cream sauce, a head of chicory (Belgian national obligation at least 3 x weekly) half a Picard frozen bagel (= bagel only in name) and half an avocado. This will be a high point in the week since I have about 5 kilos of chard from my father to get through, also all the world's apples (containing most of the world's earwigs).
It is my birthday this month and I have been compiling a fantasy birthday list for my own amusement, mainly composed of Macon et Lesquoy brooches, Elemis bath-crack and cashmere "leisure wear". The anticipation is by far the best bit about my birthday at this advanced stage of decrepitude, that and I have inveigled my father into agreeing to take me for a gigantic boozy meal at Rules, if I can sneak out of Belgium.
I know this is all thunderingly mundane, but I have decided that rather than just writing about books or stopping altogether, I can get away with being un-fascinating if I post frequently. It's quality or quantity, people. Or I can probably manage 'neither'. Neither is well within my reach.
20% Facial blemish
20% Head itch (10% scalp, 10% face)
20% Mad desire for a Bogato Mont Blanc, the one that is shaped like a ball of wool with a cassis centre (this is highly specific, yes, but no, I am not pregnant)
20% Obliged to fall back on pâté instead, since Bogato is in Paris and no fecker in Uccle can make a Mont Blanc that looks like a ball of wool
20% Non-specific irritation
You? What grisly lunches do you indulge in when home alone?