(no subject)

Ugh. I'm not sleeping well, I think because of the heat. I've been in a tremendous sentimental nostalgic mood for days now, and this morning I had an unpleasant dream -- weird, because I was behaving like an immature brat, and I knew I was, but I couldn't stop. It took me about five minutes after I woke up to realize "OK. Phew. I wasn't ACTUALLY acting like that." Essentially the family was being all mysterious about something, and I was throwing tantrums because I was left out and nobody was telling me what was going on. Turned out later someone had crashed a car. But ugh.

Read Antonia Saw the Oryx First last night. I didn't even realize when I asked for it that it was about Africa; this only added to my giant nostalgia trip, of course. People are always asking me if I remember Kenya, and I do, but not as much as I'd like; it's more flashes. I don't have the kind of memory that would make for good autobiography. I don't remember conversations, dates, connections, narrative. Mostly what I have are very vivid images and incidents: jacaranda trees leaving a carpet of purple blossom on the road, spending all my time in the swimming pool in Mombasa, a rooftop in an Arab-style house in Shela, swarms of flying ants shedding their wings in the rainy season, flamingos, school uniforms, thorn trees. A field trip learning orienteering. Red dust everywhere.

Tidying my bedroom...

I have been sharing my bed with 16 books, a mesh bag of drugs,* my journal, a bunch of receipts, 2 boxes of large-size Ziploc baggies, the counterfoil of a parking ticket and a stuffed panda.

This seems excessive.

Going to turn the mattress now. Also, I think it's time to put away the duvet.


*No, not that sort of drugs. Ventolin, Scottish acetaminophen (they call it paracetamol), throat lozenges. Really exciting stuff.

Recipe Cards from Hell

This link has been stolen from thebitterguy and posted as a public service. Go look at it. No really. I haven't laughed that hard in at least a month.