Life goes on!
Things are starting to take on some semblance of normalcy, around here.
And by "here" I mean my apartment in H-Town.
I have cooked a real meal on my stove, and discovered that its Level 4 setting is about what my old stove's Level 6 setting was. Fortunately, my 14 oz. sirloin didn't suffer too much in the searing!
I have unpacked more things, and put them away. Some are relegated to a cardboard box that will be unceremoniously shoved underneath a skirted table.
I have received a number of packages via UPS, so my UPS guy and I are now on smiling, "Hey, how's it going?" terms.
I will be sending back the contents of one package - wheeled ferrules for my sofa, to elevate it since it was made for wood floors, not carpet - because I only measured one of the six legs on the sofa, and four of them won't accommodate the ferrules. Other brass wheels will be exchanged for the ones I mistakenly purchased.
I've read a book, which I'd read once before but was absolutely certain that I had not read. It was Wilkie Collins' The Woman In White. I read the copy I already owned, so it's not in any way like my proliferating copies of The Count of Monte Cristo, which I misplace and then buy a duplicate of, only to find the original right where it should have been.
Besides, you can never have enough Counts of Monte Cristo lying around.
I received a shipment of shorts from The Gap, one of which will be returned because 1) they're too big; and 2) I look like I'm wearing baggy liederhosen. Not particularly flattering.
The last thing I want is to be mistaken for Kurt Von Trapp while traipsing across campus.
I'm still not 100% on board with the whole "wearing o the shorts" bit, mostly because I've spent the last ten years keeping my legs covered so they don't blind everyone in the vicinity. I don't do tanning. So I feel, I suppose, the way the young ladies of the 1920s felt when fashion dictated a raise in the hem-line: somewhat scandalous at all that bare skin - and with a 33 1/2" inseam, that's a lot of leg - but still condoned by society (to a degree).
I've spent 45 minutes on the phone with a surprisingly delightful and helpful young woman from AT&T who helped me re-register my wireless router/modem thingy after it inexplicably ceased to function, yesterday.
And now, I'm about to head to bed.
At 7:40 p.m.
Hopefully, I will finish the book I am currently reading (The 6th Lamentation) and begin reading another one, perhaps Spy Princess: The Life of Noor Inayat Khan or The Memory of All That: George Gershwin, Kay Swift, and My Family's Legacy of Infidelities by one of the Warburg family's descendants, who apparently has made a career out of outing her family's little secrets.
I look forward to some scandalously delicious reading, to go along with my scandalous shorts.