Menage à Trois Bingo

Well, at least the late days at work have mostly dried up. So I feel less like I’m trying to cram ten pounds of crap into a five-pound bag. My raise for the year kicked in, including the back pay. It is disappointing both on general principle, given how many departments I work for and roles I fill, and in practical terms, given that everything is so goddamn expensive.

Saturday, we went to the semiannual giveaway of compost from the green waste processing plant. We got rather a larger load than we had meant to, and the truck did not appreciate having to work that hard, but we made it home. This will go to the vegetable garden areas, mostly. In theory, our last frost date isn’t for another couple of weeks. In reality, I’m pretty sure we could have, and possibly should have, started planting out the vegetables a couple weeks ago.

I really want to go through and repot the succulents. It’s been a few years at this point, so they need it. It will let me consolidate the pots as well, as there are some dead ones to remove. It feels like I don’t actually get to do much of anything with the garden these days, apart from clearing weeds.

As usual, my issue is that there aren’t enough hours in the day.

Lewisia: 3 new pieces written

Day job: 43 hours

Cooking: lemon biscotti (which I have been dipping into mashed up thawed raspberries as part of my work lunch for maximum decadence)

Gardening: weed whacked the north end of the property, watered the succulents, picked up the semiannual load of compost

Reading: The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches by Sangu Mandanna (I think I got the rec for this straight off Storygraph and it was, indeed, a very good match for me, a perfectly charming romance)

Watching: The X-Files season one, episode 18

Listening: Dream Life by Mary Epworth (“Long Gone” was one of the haunting weather segments from early Welcome to Night Vale, and yes it has taken me something like a decade to get the album, hush, it was quite nice, bigger variation in style than I expected)

Playing: I finished that mfing sorting game and I can’t tell if the satisfaction outweighs the resentment I feel toward it for how addicting the early moments are and how grindingly annoying the final sorting is

Clock Mouse: 100 minutes of planning work, plus 908 words written

It was no one’s business, of course, what gods a person might dedicate themselves to, but humans are humans, and so they marveled openly that he would choose a trickster god. They pointed out his love of clear and consistent rules, his aversion to any change in routine, his fundamental discomfort with unpredictability. Gods seldom make promises, though, and if no one could promise him the stability he craved, he decided he would have to get divine lessons in learning to cope with the chaos of reality.

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LL#1374