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end of a week
7 Feb 2025 06:36 pmI have managed to do some laundry this week! Not catch up on laundry, but I did a few loads of linens.
We managed to go for a walk yesterday! Less than an hour, so not really long enough to get the good endorphins, but long enough to feel like a proper walk. We meant to stop at the cafe owned by Wax's cousin once removed, where his wife does the baking, but it was closed due to an accident. I hope his wife isn't in the hospital again. We bought some pastry from the corner store by the guest harbor though.
Today, with Wax's help, I swept under the bunny cages and changed their litter boxes. The litter box contents always turns quickly to very high quality humus and the hay and dry bunny poops they scatter all over the floor filled two big bins which Wax took to the compost for me. Also she shook some rugs - the ones that don't need to go through the wash (we only have machine-washable rugs in that room, since they need to be washed frequently). The rugs are back down and the floor mostly clean and the bunnies have had a celebration, because bunnies love when the furniture moves.
I learned two days ago, from the Marple fic that Ellen Fremedon wrote for Yuletide, that Britain has a loaf-shaped gingerbread that you slice and serve. I looked up two recipes and it seems basically similar to spice cake, but I'm still really curious. I haven't tried it already because you have to melt the stuff on the stovetop, just like with Swedish gingerbread cookie recipe, and that extra step still feels like a bit too much right now (I keep trying to get myself to make shortbread, but I can't face taking the butter out in advance right now; maybe I'll make brownies instead).
I have been listening to Victorian ghost stories read by a Northerner - maybe Northumberland? Wax and I aren't good enough at Northern accents to tell - while knitting for the past few weeks. (Classic Ghost Stories podcast by Tony Walker.) It has been an amusing and enlightening tour through the lower-than-A-list entries in this period where the Gothic was starting to evolve into the modern horror genre (which I'm not a fan of, but it's adjacent to my genre and Wax and my sister and my friend Ella are fans, and my dad reads and writes 'dark speculative fiction', aka sff horror - so I have osmosis-knowledge and have consumed a few bits on purpose). A couple of gothic works I hadn't heard of have been really great, and the near-mediocre genre potboiler works that always exist in such profusion have given me new insight (to the period and the genres). Also I've heard a couple of my favorite type of ghost story, where the ghost is completely nonthreatening and isn't even doing anything scary, but the story is melodramatic about the chilling/unforgettable horror of them, so that at the end you're indignantly going "This is ghost racism!" I've also heard a story about a ghost hand and one about a ghost finger (both competent but neither good), a ludicrous story about a haunted duffel bag, and TWO stories about haunted paintings (neither really good, but one better than the other).
We managed to go for a walk yesterday! Less than an hour, so not really long enough to get the good endorphins, but long enough to feel like a proper walk. We meant to stop at the cafe owned by Wax's cousin once removed, where his wife does the baking, but it was closed due to an accident. I hope his wife isn't in the hospital again. We bought some pastry from the corner store by the guest harbor though.
Today, with Wax's help, I swept under the bunny cages and changed their litter boxes. The litter box contents always turns quickly to very high quality humus and the hay and dry bunny poops they scatter all over the floor filled two big bins which Wax took to the compost for me. Also she shook some rugs - the ones that don't need to go through the wash (we only have machine-washable rugs in that room, since they need to be washed frequently). The rugs are back down and the floor mostly clean and the bunnies have had a celebration, because bunnies love when the furniture moves.
I learned two days ago, from the Marple fic that Ellen Fremedon wrote for Yuletide, that Britain has a loaf-shaped gingerbread that you slice and serve. I looked up two recipes and it seems basically similar to spice cake, but I'm still really curious. I haven't tried it already because you have to melt the stuff on the stovetop, just like with Swedish gingerbread cookie recipe, and that extra step still feels like a bit too much right now (I keep trying to get myself to make shortbread, but I can't face taking the butter out in advance right now; maybe I'll make brownies instead).
I have been listening to Victorian ghost stories read by a Northerner - maybe Northumberland? Wax and I aren't good enough at Northern accents to tell - while knitting for the past few weeks. (Classic Ghost Stories podcast by Tony Walker.) It has been an amusing and enlightening tour through the lower-than-A-list entries in this period where the Gothic was starting to evolve into the modern horror genre (which I'm not a fan of, but it's adjacent to my genre and Wax and my sister and my friend Ella are fans, and my dad reads and writes 'dark speculative fiction', aka sff horror - so I have osmosis-knowledge and have consumed a few bits on purpose). A couple of gothic works I hadn't heard of have been really great, and the near-mediocre genre potboiler works that always exist in such profusion have given me new insight (to the period and the genres). Also I've heard a couple of my favorite type of ghost story, where the ghost is completely nonthreatening and isn't even doing anything scary, but the story is melodramatic about the chilling/unforgettable horror of them, so that at the end you're indignantly going "This is ghost racism!" I've also heard a story about a ghost hand and one about a ghost finger (both competent but neither good), a ludicrous story about a haunted duffel bag, and TWO stories about haunted paintings (neither really good, but one better than the other).
