Settler writer/musician, (leanpub.com/upsun) living where privilege meets precarity in BC. she/her/they———– Novels: Midnite Moving Co., Upsun; Sweep Off Those Waves coming in 2020, Hair Sinister after that. ————- RECONCILIATION IS HORSESHIT GIVE THE LAND BACK . @TheCorrection on twitter. live:allegra.sloman
Paul and I went for a walk. New Generations Grocery is closed except for pickup orders so that didn’t pan out, but Paul found the last of the Granville Island Lion Winter Ale and I succumbed to one and a half of them when I got home. We also picked up schnitzel from the Balkan House restaurant and so that was a 2k walk, half of it under load, so no surprise I was tired. We ate on the deck for social distancing (I got SO HOT in the mask, how will I cope in hot weather, I have to think of a dodge pretty soon or I’m going to be quite circumscribed in terms of what I can do and where I can go.)
I was fine for allergies for a while but I’m now feeling tender in the brain again.
Damn that schnitzel was good. Literally just got up and devoured some out of the take out container for late lunch or early dinner. The spuds were fine as well. NOM.
Dave informs me that his masks have finally arrived.
Walk with Paul yesterday in Hilda Park.
Tremendous migraine yesterday, knocked me down for hours in the middle of the day and right now the pain behind my right eye is making me wobbly. aaaand there goes the right side of my visual field. Screw this noise, caffeine is required.
Martha Wells’ Murderbot novel Network Effect is out and I’m loving it so far when I can actually see with my eyes.
I literally slept all day yesterday, and then slept the usual amount at night. I’ve either got trypanosomiasis or I’m sickening with something or I’m depressed, and how would I know. I do know that I sleep to get away from my allergies, and the pollen count right now is higher than Cheech and Chong.
so…. Dave and I were missing each other on Skype and finally we connected. I spent… it feels like I spent the first ten minutes of the call going On and fucking On, as one does, about how intelligent Buster is.
Mookie, Dave’s cat, promptly got up on the back of his chair, put two paws up on the bookshelf, and then, delicate, delicate, delicately extended one claw AND YOINKED DAVE’S WATER GLASS OVER. It didn’t break but Dave had to get up and get a towel. I got to watch the whole thing and instead of doing anything useful like warning Dave I screamed with laughter because I am, not to put too fine a point on it, a total weeb.
Then he jammed his hairy little face into the camera and for one brief second I thought I was disappearing into a tiger’s maw.
There are no eggs in Toronto, at least not for delivery.