sedentary lifeform

Recovering from lengthy familial obligations. Also a little sick (thanks a lot Jack). Spent huge amounts of time happily sitting on couch reading paper and watching tennis. Scraped paint off the shed for a while but it still smelled too much like the recently-removed decaying possum. So, not much to report. Federer won. And Justine Henin. And Anna Kournikova or however you spell her name. Off to find a book to read. Because I am so scholarly.

Update: Reading Watership Down again. It shares the quality that I assume draws people to science fiction, that of creating a large, complex alternate world whose terms must be learned and whose values and parameters are new. Escapism, I guess, but I don't think that's all it is-- it sort of reminds you of the possibilities of reality, that there's no particular reason to think of everything the way you do, that your reality is only one of many hypothetical options. And then it reminds you, by contrast, of what exactly your reality is. Plus rabbit language is very cool, like Welch.