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Nobody tell Oliver that despite being incredibly tired by 7pm last night, I didn't get to bed until 4am.
*cough*
And forgot to turn on the dishwasher, so I had to run it while I was awake today, which was annoying. (It's noisy.)
So yesterday I bought the complete series of A Bit of Fry and Laurie. (The reasoning actually includes "sanity", but that gets complciated to explain.)
I started watchingit yesterday evening with Oliver, and we both had variations on the same reaction. Olly watches House, so he was disconcerted by how young Hugh Laurie looks. I've watched a lot of QI lately, so I was disconcerted by how young Stephen Fry looks.
On the second disc, though, there's The Cambridge Footlights Review, featuring an unbelievably young Stephen Fry, Hugh Laurie and Emma Thompson. Stephen Fry was around 25, Hugh Laurie and Emma Thompson around 23, and they are all, by the way, already brilliant performers. It's just... weird. Because I'm used to thinking of these people as being Older Than I Am, because they are, but in this recording they're younger than I am now.
In other news, my Brilliant Master Laundry Plan appears to be working flawlessly - including the part which involved letting certain items get rained on extensively for non-water-wasting at-length rinsing. I got everything on the washing line, just in time for the forecast rain to arrive. It's out there, sodden and dripping right now. (Repeated rinsing with water from the tap, you see, is going to waste lots of water; rinsing with water falling out of the sky? Ecologically acceptable.)
The laundry I plan to do this afternoon, however, will be hung on the rack inside, because I actually want it to dry.
It includes my new white washcloth, which never actually got used as a washcloth before I used it as a pad for putting pressure on a wound. It got thoroughly blood-soaked, and soaking it in water for a day left traces of bloodstain, so (because I'm lazy) I soaked it in bleach for a couple of days.
It reminded me of when my mother was sick. We had about twenty or thirty cheap white cotton washcloths which were used in wound care. (Mum's illness involved a lot of major surgery.) The tremendous usefulness of white cotton for such items was driven home to me then, because you do all kinds of things to them without them really showing it. Sometimes they had to be bleached, and it was fine. As often as they were used, they were put through the washing machine's 95 degree (celsius) cycle to render them approximately sterile.
(My parents' washing machine is a terribly good one, and among its features is that it does, in fact, have a cycle that washes just shy of boiling point. On those rare occasions when you want to get seriously antibacterial on your laundry, this is awesome. It also has a choice of 600rpm or 1500rpm for spin cycle - and if you don't care about creasing, that 1500rpm cycle gets things to "barely damp".)
I'm not too fussed about sterilising this washcloth though - it picked up no Infected Matter, has been thoroughly bleached anyway (I'm pretty sure two days in chlorine should kill any unwanted microbes), and I have no bloodborne diseases to fear transmitting to housemates.
I am becoming seriously tempted to trim to just-past-skin-length for the hairs at the bottom corners of my hairline - they don't get more than two to four inches long anyway, because they're kinky and fragile and break a lot, and it just gets annoying.
(Last night I think I shredded quite a few of my longer hairs, too, because the difficulty I have brushing my hair without pain meant I hadn't actually brushed my hair in several days, and it had developed some hideous knots and tangles I couldn't get undone without tearing them apart a bit. Then I washed my hair in the laundry sink, because I'm not allowed to risk getting my sutures all wet, so I can't just have a normal shower.)
Cleaning my brush afterwards, I noted one hair pale and bright amid the dark brown. I thought at first it must have been one of ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png) velithya's - I occasionally find a long, light, striaght hair on my clothes, or whatever. Those are hers.
But this one? This one was curly, bordering on kinky, and oh, man, it was a white hair, and it was mine.
Is this a sign that the degree to which I "have grey hair" is possibly going to extend beyond "three of them since about age seventeen"? Who can say. My genetic history for greying is reasonably mixed, but overall, runs to really-quite-late. (My paternal grandmother had yet to go grey when she died, in her early sixties, of breast cancer.) (Yes, I do plan to be good about mammograms when I'm older.)
To do today: Work on linguistics, and also work on a plan for what my goal for further improvement with guitar will be - deciding what my next step to practice is, and starting to work on that.Current Music: A Bit Of Fry And Laurie Current Mood:  tired
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I worked out this evening why, all of a sudden, the floor of the main room of our house got so dirty - winter's setting in, and we're bringing in muddier shoes and so on. (And I haven't been leaving my shoes in the laundry like I usually do, for some reason, so I track dirt further in.) This evening I vacuumed the floor and the lower half of the staircase carpet, though. Huzzah.
Feeling a little low and demoralised. I want to write, but I'm low on ideas and not really feeling like any of my current fics.. I'll take prompts in Kamen Rider Kabuto, Star Trek (TOS, Reboot only, right now), Veterans of the Psychic War (hey, I should maybe poke at Veterans II), if anyone has requests. Nothing smutty though, I'm so very much not in that place.
So very, very tired. Have concluded that what I should do now in terms of guitar is practice chord progressions with strumming patterns, since I still kind of hesitate too much when I'm trying to change chords without stopping strumming. Important to accept that it's fine to screw up while doing this, it's a learning process.
I also discovered this evening that the reason my guitar's pickguard showed scratches so easily was that there was still one of those static cling plastic pieces over it. The plastic shredded easily. The pickguard is actually still pretty much unmarked...
Until I started watching these DVDs of A Bit of Fry and Laurie, I had no idea that Hugh Laurie plays guitar. Apparently House plays guitar, and this was a suggestion of Hugh Laurie's. I find that rather nifty.
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I am close to having no words.
Shooting in the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C.
The shooter is a white supremacist. He killed a guard, injured someone else.
A bitter, angry, racist anti-Semite. Who murdered a man at the memorial to one of the greatest tragedies in human history.
Anyone still trying to deny that a right-wing extremist backlash is starting, after the murder of Dr Tiller and now this? It breaks my heart, but I think you're wrong.
America is in danger. America, more than other places, because America has conditions we don't, that make this so much more dangerous. In America, free speech is taken too far, and hate speech is still allowed, and still practiced, fomenting hatred and bitterness and anger on talk radio and FOX News. Rush Limbaugh couldn't spew his filth in Australia. Michael Savage isn't even allowed into the United Kingdom. This vicious infestation still propagates, and sadly, the Internet helps it do so, but it's not quite so endemic, and it doesn't run through Australian politics - not yet, anyway. Sadly, the rise of the BNP suggests Britain may not be so lucky.
But Britain is also still better off than America, because in Britain, it's not so easy to get guns.
In America, a constitutional amendment that refers directly to a well-regulated militia is somehow interpreted to mean that unregulated access to automatic weapons is a fundamental right of all citizens.
In America, angry, bitter racists are armed.
I'm half a world away, and it terrifies me anyway.
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