Tromped around Umstead park this morning with a buddy of mine, looking for birds. The birds, alas, were mostly hiding today–either we’re not looking in the right place, or it was just a slow day for ’em–but it was a pleasant morning anyway. Birding in company is much more enjoyable. You can both stand around with your respective field guides open, going “Pine warbler, do you think?” “Maybe, or could be a first year magnolia…?” and bask in the warm glow of a faintly absurd hobby shared. (Poor bastard. New to birding, and got hit with fall warblers right off the bat. It’s a cruel world.)
The weather was cool, if humid, there was a low hanging mist over the forest for part of the morning, and the sun rising behind it was a flat white disk, no brighter than a sheet of paper. (I love atmospheric effects that allow you to look at the sun. It feels like you’re cheating the laws of childhood somehow, like competing in the hundred yard dash-with-scissors.)
A mostly lazy day other than that. Got some writing done on Nurk 2. I do not know yet if there will BE a Nurk 2, but there certainly won’t be if I don’t write it, so I’m putting it together slowly but surely. Got another week of buffer done on Digger in the last few days, which is a vast relief. Putting the comic on hiatus galled me deeply.
Ten days until I take possession of my apartment, two weeks until I move in, at best estimate. I’m very ready, but I’ll miss Deb anyway. Also, the contents of Deb’s fridge. Her husband is a very picky eater. Deb’s been able to buy a much broader variety of food during my stay, content in the knowledge that if he doesn’t eat it, the resident starving artist probably will. “Sure, I’ll eat quiche. Yes, and rosemary ham. And the lemon chicken breast, sure. Yeah, I can probably take that coffee ice cream off your hands. Mango cheesecake? Oh, twist my arm….”
It’s a good thing the Effexor is damping my appetite, or I’d have gained back all that weight already. Going back to the frozen food aisle of Trader Joe’s, and the traditional Ursula Bachelor Fridge (contents: iced tea, jar of pesto, package of pasta, lonely stick of butter) will be a hard transition. Maybe I can find a single’s cooking class around here somewhere.
