A comforter-ing tale

At the laundromat...
Long time, no see, huh? Well, here you can see I’m not much different. I was washing the comforter for my bed, since it’s time to put it back on the bed. It’s autumn up here, y’know. Time flies, and the leaves are about to do the same.

The seasonal projection is for the winter to be warmer and drier than usual, thanks to an unusually hyperactive El Niño. I just wish our freeze would come soon, because my sinuses are so very unhappy right now. Something has to knock down the mold and mildew and whatever else I’m allergic to.

I haven’t been doing much in the last few weeks. I started a major decluttering project about a month ago, and made some progress before stalling out. I have to do a bit more now before Dave comes up again next weekend. At the moment, there’s nowhere for him to put his luggage, because the space is cluttered with things I couldn’t decide what to do with. Decisions are now due. I aim to be ruthless, but I have had that aim before. If nothing else, I do still have a storage unit with room in it for more stuff, I suppose.

Next Saturday, Dave and I are going to our first Detroit Symphony concert of the season: Beethoven’s 7th symphony and Mendelssohn’s 1st piano concerto. Remind me to cram in some listening time before then. These concerts are so much better when I’m a little bit familiar with the material. Our adventures in good music (note: Karl Haas not included) continue the first weekend in December, when the DSO performs Mahler’s 2nd symphony, the Resurrection. We saw the Chicago Symphony perform this 7 years ago now (!) and it was awesome then. Let’s see what our gang does with it.

Not much else to say. I’ve just been working and sleeping, more or less. Eating sometimes. You know how it goes. What have you-all been doing lately?

Edited 10/12 to add: The opening piece on Saturday’s programme is Prokofiev’s first symphony. “Symphony” sounds big, but Prokofiev’s #1 is actually relatively short.

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About songdogmi

I'm a longhaired almost-hippie stuck in the inner suburbs of a major rust-belt metropolis who's thoughtful, creative, and kind of geeky. In exchange for a paycheck I run around in a cubicle maze most days. When I escape, I play music, hang out in coffee houses, dink around on the computer, take naps, and think I should be off in the woods somewhere. Every once in a while I get in my car and drive far, far away, though I've always come back so far.
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