I'm in a glum trough. I'm glad I can see the trough. I'm better at that now.
I've been struck by the utter lack of energy I feel if or when a friend makes constructive suggestions on how we could win at it all. I can't explain it, other than I might be actually burnt out. If so, I think it's a first. I hope we can have a little celebration of some sort to mark this phase. I can't think of something good.
It's strange to be moving out of the office. Today we kept siphoning. We've gotten rid of a lot of crap we'd collected, and that's always good. I have to keep whatever we keep at my house for the foreseeable, so I'm obviously interested in extreme culling.
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| That Box on top with the burned edges is about the same as the first Smithsonian one we sent back in 2016 with our excellent "Frogs in a Box" collection. They now have more than twenty. |
We watched the whole of the Judicial Committee hearing properly today as we were packing up. It was a strange, combative, exasperated, one-sided two-sided "hearing" with all present sounding frustrated, and the Attorney General coming across as a bit sly, mostly. We wondered what the hearing was intended to produce, if anything other than things on the record.
I met Katy in Victoria Park afternoon sun after work. Joked with her about the fact that I now have an ominous marrow in my home, from her allotment, which I may stick googly eyes on. I could start to talk with it like Wilson.
It might be the glum trough talking, but I'm a bit tired of writing this. We'll see what happens about that. Alan Bennett didn't keep a daily diary ever. He just wrote when something interesting happened.
It's going to be really hot tomorrow and Friday. I wish I could run away to the beach.