Halfway through the laundry cycle John advised me that tonight was the night Palo Alto was flushing its water system. Oog. I gingerly opened the washer lid to peer at the water color. Clear, thank god. It was only sheets and pillow cases but they were new sheets and pillow cases; I'd have minded quite a bit if they'd been discolored thanks to my forgetting about the municipal spring cleaning.
I probably won't have to use those particular sheets very much longer. They're flannel, and although it's still on the nippy side at night the spring is coming on nicely. All along our street the trees have burst forth in popcorn ball clusters of white flowers. They smell dreadful, and they're probably emitting some sort of virulent pollen, but since I don't suffer from allergies I'm not bothered. They look festive.
It isn't clear to me who's on the landscaping committee at our complex but I think they have lousy taste in bedding plants. The gardeners are forever planting sickly color combinations of flowers that don't spread out much but look perpetually lanky. I simply cannot admire a begonia; at least, not the common kind that go all stalky and peculiar after the first growing spurt. I'd much rather see some pansies or windflowers or even cosmos. I love wildflower gardens. But no, we have a dismal crop of something looking rather desperate at the entrance to the complex, and I just know they're going to plant pink petunias as soon as it gets warmer.
Aside from whining about flowers, I'm in a pretty good mood. I just got a glowing review from Nanette, a diarist who has decided to review the diaries she finds by hitting the Random button at Open Pages. I'm completely baffled by her assessment of me as a Renaissance woman, but gosh, compliments are always okay by me, you betcha.
On the entertainment front, I've just finished McCullough's Caesar's Women, and it was thoroughly enjoyable because it focused so heavily on daily life for Roman women. I probably won't read the rest of the series as it appears to focus entirely on battles and politics. I am halfway through Willis' To Say Nothing of the Dog which is hilarious and you must go read it if you like witty Time Travel stories.
Healthwise, all the beasts appear to feel fine, and the dog is shedding like summer is just around the corner. I can't begin to keep up with the hair loss. Natasha, who is half Persian, is starting to look slightly disreputable as her hair goes into spring shedding mode. Keiko remains neat, short haired, and annoyingly inclined to wake us up at 5am so we can watch her eat her cat kibble. She hates to eat alone.
And now I'm going to play Russian Roulette with the Palo Alto Water Department. I really need to get some more laundry done. I just can't decide whether to chance a load of t-shirts or stick with the vast pile of unterver vich ve need to vash. At least if that comes out looking kind of mulched no one else will see it.
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