This morning, after RDC roused Blake but before the latter had emerged from his boudoir, I disappeared into the bathroom. I was there long and quietly enough that Blake must have assumed I had left for the millet factory and so crawled up to RDC's neck for his morning nap. When I ran water, letting Blake now I was still home, he shrieked--right in RDC's ear--communicating with the errant of his flock.
Yesterday after work I stopped at a nearby store to order a pair of Dansko sandals. It took the clerks about nine years to place my order, but the shoes should arrive by next week. I love my brown ones but I want them in black, because I have become someone who wears black in the summer. I have a black dress with white polka dots and a black floral dress, both of which prefer a prettier shoe than my also-beloved Dansko clogs. The black microfibre mules I bought for Haitch's wedding I now hate (they're not particularly comfortable plus are loud on stairs) and with those two dresses, plus the dress for Haitch's wedding and an outfit based on my black linen skirt, I will be fully outfitted for the Big Top--four days of Dot Org working and socializing from 7 to midnight on one pair of shoes.
Shopping by bike continued zooward, where I did not find a zebra. Tapirs and meerkats made me covetous, and also a little perplexed: these more obscure animals, and regular elephants and lions, but no zebras?
Then I went home and melted. I am so glad to have the swamp cooler. It claims an extra shower's worth of water a day, but our water bills are quarterly so I haven't compared this latest period's usage to last year's. It uses less electricity but more water, of course, than air conditioning, and I am thinking of planting a tree--something ornamental, sure to stay small--where it drains.
I made pesto from the prolific basil and RDC made salad. Naturally Blake got his own piece of rotilli but then he needed salad too: no one had given him evening spinach and sprouts, and he could see that we were not sharing. He doesn't get dressing, of course, so I gave him his own, and later his own half-cherry. After that I reread Then There Were Five (we'd been talking about stills).
I am making excuses not to spend an hour at a time with The Name of the Rose. Starting Saturday I'll have the new Harry Potter to distract me, and Friday evening we will Consume in Cherry Creek North--RDC's new sport jacket will have been tailored, I'll hopefully seek a zebra from Kazoo & Company, and acquire the next two bookclub books from the Tattered Cover--still not Umberto Eco.