Reset Forty-Four, Day Twenty
Oct. 2nd, 2022 04:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rejectomorphThough (or because) I got to sleep earlier Saturday morning than I have for quite some time I did not sleep well. It went okay for about five hours, but then I woke up to find it much to early to get up, and spent the next two hours in fretful cat napping. I finally dragged myself out of bed around noon, and made the best I could of of the day. The best was not all that good.
Early in the evening I almost went for a nap, but remembered that I hadn't checked the ads for the stores to see if there was anything good on the Monday sales, and once I'd gotten started on that I lost my desire to nap. It only came back a short time ago, but now it's almost time for actual sleep. In the meantime, I'd fixed some dinner which included half of the leftover Spanish rice, and it has given me indigestion.
Anyway, the ads were a disappointment, and the day was kind of a waste, and my mood is not good. I really can't decide if I want to shop Monday or not, as I definitely need a few items, but there's not much on sale that I'd like to stock up on. The next ads come out Wednesday, and I might arrange for a Friday trip, but on the other hand I'd really like to get it over with. Things were much easier when I had the energy to just walk to the nearby stores for things I was out of, and take a bus to pick up special sale items I wanted on hand. This being old and easily exhausted thing is not working out for me.
But enough grousing. In a little while I get chocolate, and get to read another chapter in my book, and then get to go to sleep and forget everything for a while. And when I get up it will be to a day that is eight degrees cooler than Saturday was (after that it's heating up again, but I intend not to think about that until it happens.) Hooray for chocolate, sleep, and a cooler day.
Sunday Verse
by Yvor Winters
When I was young, with sharper sense,
The farthest insect cry I heard
Could stay me; through the trees, intense,
I watched the hunter and the bird.
Where is the meaning that I found?
Or was it but a state of mind,
Some old penumbra of the ground,
In which to be but not to find?
Now summer grasses, brown with heat,
Have crowded sweetness through the air;
The very roadside dust is sweet;
Even the unshadowed earth is fair.
The soft voice of the nesting dove,
And the dove in soft erratic flight
Like a rapid hand within a glove,
Caress the silence and the light.
Amid the rubble, the fallen fruit,
Fermenting in its rich decay,
Smears brandy on the trampling boot
And sends it sweeter on its way.
Early in the evening I almost went for a nap, but remembered that I hadn't checked the ads for the stores to see if there was anything good on the Monday sales, and once I'd gotten started on that I lost my desire to nap. It only came back a short time ago, but now it's almost time for actual sleep. In the meantime, I'd fixed some dinner which included half of the leftover Spanish rice, and it has given me indigestion.
Anyway, the ads were a disappointment, and the day was kind of a waste, and my mood is not good. I really can't decide if I want to shop Monday or not, as I definitely need a few items, but there's not much on sale that I'd like to stock up on. The next ads come out Wednesday, and I might arrange for a Friday trip, but on the other hand I'd really like to get it over with. Things were much easier when I had the energy to just walk to the nearby stores for things I was out of, and take a bus to pick up special sale items I wanted on hand. This being old and easily exhausted thing is not working out for me.
But enough grousing. In a little while I get chocolate, and get to read another chapter in my book, and then get to go to sleep and forget everything for a while. And when I get up it will be to a day that is eight degrees cooler than Saturday was (after that it's heating up again, but I intend not to think about that until it happens.) Hooray for chocolate, sleep, and a cooler day.
Sunday Verse
A Summer Commentary
by Yvor Winters
When I was young, with sharper sense,
The farthest insect cry I heard
Could stay me; through the trees, intense,
I watched the hunter and the bird.
Where is the meaning that I found?
Or was it but a state of mind,
Some old penumbra of the ground,
In which to be but not to find?
Now summer grasses, brown with heat,
Have crowded sweetness through the air;
The very roadside dust is sweet;
Even the unshadowed earth is fair.
The soft voice of the nesting dove,
And the dove in soft erratic flight
Like a rapid hand within a glove,
Caress the silence and the light.
Amid the rubble, the fallen fruit,
Fermenting in its rich decay,
Smears brandy on the trampling boot
And sends it sweeter on its way.
