rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,

Reset Twelve, Day Fifteen

The air index is 63 tonight, which is in the moderate range, so it's worse than last night but not as bad as a few nights ago. I've got the fan on and it only stinks a little bit. It's supposed to stay moderate all day. I've been in the apartment for fifteen days now, and it hasn't seemed as long as fifteen days used to seem back in the old days of March or April. I must be getting used to the isolation. Or I'm aging faster and time thus seems to move faster. My back is certainly aging faster. I don't know if I'll ever get to a chiropractor again, but I wish I could.

At the moment I don't remember much about Saturday, except that I finished the first novel in the Agatha Christie omnibus I started... when? I don't remember that either. The Blue Train turned out to be an early Hercule Poirot novel, though he doesn't appear until several chapters in. The next one in the volume is Murder in Mesopotamia, which I know to be a Poirot novel as I've seen dramatizations of it. I might read it next, or I might pick up some other volume, to spread the Christie out a bit. Don't want to use up the easy stuff too fast.

Other than reading there wasn't much to do but listen to the planes and helicopters fly over the neighborhood on their way to the fires. The almost-blue sky was pretty busy, right up until the last flights just after sunset. The big fire to the west didn't expand by much, thanks to diminished wind, and the air should be fairly still today as well, though somewhat hotter. The next wind event could come Monday, so it might expand again then. It's still only 30% contained, so is likely to be with us for quite along time yet.

The situation in general just seems tedious now. The fires have been burning so long that they have come to seem normal. I can hardly remember what it was like not to have the smell of smoke in the air. Autumnal equinox Tuesday, in case anybody is wondering. Bonfires are traditional, but don't worry if you haven't prepared one. California has you covered.

Sunday Verse


by Matthew Arnold

Strew on her roses, roses,	
  And never a spray of yew.	
In quiet she reposes:	
  Ah! would that I did too.

 Her mirth the world required:	        
  She bathed it in smiles of glee.	
But her heart was tired, tired,	
  And now they let her be.	
Her life was turning, turning,	
  In mazes of heat and sound.	        
But for peace her soul was yearning,	
  And now peace laps her round.	
Her cabin’d, ample Spirit,	
  It flutter’d and fail’d for breath.	
To-night it doth inherit	        
  The vasty hall of Death.


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