she who keeps this diary

20 November 2003 - 2:37 PM

Episode LXX, in which there is no singing

Heh. Not surprising, I guess, though I don't know anyone who's actually compared me to an oak tree. A wild rose, from time to time (all thorns, no doubt), but not an oak.

Your magical style is Druidic.
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I'm not feeling particularly wise, much less druidic, today. The fallout from the déménagement de Grandmaman is still falling. Grandmaman is being difficult, of course. Maman is receiving daily communiqués with complaints -- where is this piece of furniture, or that objet d'art or why cannot she find some other odd or end which did not fit and therefore is not in the new place.

In one of these messages, Grandmaman huffed, 'everything's different.' Well, yes. Grandpapa died and she's moved from an 1800-sq. ft. flat to an 800-sq. ft. one. These are dramatic changes.

In another spectacular bon mot, Grandmaman pronounced to one of the nurses (a friend of Maman's, as it happens) that she knew what her children were trying to do by hustling her into this new place. 'They're just trying to rehabilitate me,' she said, as though the notion was unthinkably offensive.

Actually, that would be lovely. But observe that I am not holding my breath.

The Avuncular One is continuing in his usual vein -- the latest tale involves the large corner cupboard in Grandmaman's former dining room. The item was intended to go to Maman, but she had no room for it, and offered it to Sis, who did have a place for it and frankly needed the storage space it provides. The Avuncular One objected, saying that if Maman couldn't take it, it should be returned to the estate and sold. Maman squelched him, saying that she claimed it, and could, as owner, do with it as she pleased, and it pleased her to give it to Sis. I am not sure what the Avuncular One had to say about that, but since the corner cupboard is now in the possession of my sister, I guess it wasn't much.

We are in the downhill slide to Thanksgiving at school, and after that will be in the downhill slide to Christmas and the end of term. The kids are increasingly difficult; they are looking forward to the holidays and couldn't care less about schoolwork. The seniors are particularly bad as most of them have their university applications in and some of the athletes have even committed to one or another. I suppose my consolation is that after mid-January, when the semesters change, they will cease to be my problem.

Three days until Thanksgiving break. Only three days.

verso - recto

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