March 16th, 2005

caillebotte_the orangerie


I became inexplicably hungry a while ago, even though I had eaten well a short time before. Then I made the mistake of watching a cooking show. They made baked manicotti, and I was even hungrier. There's not much in the kitchen now, so I made do with a banana. It wasn't enough. What I really want is some fettucini Alfredo, but I don't have the ingredients. It wouldn't make a good dawn bedtime snack anyway, I guess.

It has gradually grown cloudy tonight, though the clouds don't look substantial enough to provide rain. Stars occasionally break through. The air is comfortably cool for now, but I fear that the day will turn warm once again. I'm sneezing from the pollen, too, and my head has that oversized feeling. At least the early arrival of spring means that I'm getting the allergies out of the way early this year, so maybe I can enjoy the rest of the season without them.

Today is the outside day for the delivery of the computer. If it doesn't come today, I'll call them tomorrow and grouse at them. I still haven't decided if I'm going to put the new guy at Sluggo's desk, or try to set him up in another part of the room. I'd like to have enough space for a big table which would hold both of them, so they could glare at each other. Sluggo would probably glare better, because he has a CRT and the new guy has an LCD flat panel. Sluggo is good at glare. I'm looking forward to not having to see it so often.

Sky growing slightly pale. Must go watch the clouds emerge from obscurity.
caillebotte_man at his window


Afternoon was splendidly gray, the shadowless world a bowl of pearly light, the sky a marble dome where crows flew. As sunset arrived, the west grew bright, drenching evening in gold, and a few clouds differentiated themselves from the overcast, drifting forms at first white, then pink. One looked like an immense white bird gliding on wings that were slightly asymmetrical. As I watched, it dissolved, passing east on swift wind unfelt here below. The last woodpeckers have now ceased their chatter, and frogs begin to croak the arrival of night. March is at last being March.

No, the computer did not arrive. If it isn't here by the time I wake up tomorrow, I'll call to see what is holding it up. If they don't really want to sell me one, I'll find another vendor.