![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
There was also gay soft-serve ice cream.
It is not, by my standards, terrifically late. But it is dark and drizzling in August, something which strikes me at the very core of my being as being wrong, and I'm too wrung out from too little sleep last night to even think about doing anything serious. I can very clearly visualize what's necessary to do on this batch of cover letters, and I can't see myself being able to do any of it, even extrapolating three cups of strong black tea. I've hit the past-midnight-staring-bleary-eyed mode before nine, and that's not a good thing.
It's fixed easily enough, though.
Despite the weariness on my feet, it's been a good day. I got through a decent amount of files at work, bought some wine for baking and cider for drinking, and on the walk from the wine store to the subway through Washington Square Park, I got to feed some pigeons. A small group of kids were feeding them, and they were nice enough to share the birdseed with me, and after a while, I just stood there with my arms outstretched and the pigeons landed on them even though I didn't have anything to feed them. One even landed on my head. At the most, it was six, with three on each arm, jockeying for space. And that close up, I got to see how the overall pigmentation shifts both the feathers and eye color: the red-feathered pigeons had a visible yellow circle around the iris, almost like the whites in human eyes.
I was careful enough to touch them a little, not just be a resting spot, and they feel lovely. Soft and smooth and warm and delicate. Not fragile, but delicate.
And now, to enjoy the fact that this is a month with a blue moon, and to enjoy it while in bed with one of my new books.
(The subject line is in reference to the Big Gay Ice Cream Truck, which sold me a cone of vanilla dipped in curried coconut flakes that was worth every penny.)
It's fixed easily enough, though.
Despite the weariness on my feet, it's been a good day. I got through a decent amount of files at work, bought some wine for baking and cider for drinking, and on the walk from the wine store to the subway through Washington Square Park, I got to feed some pigeons. A small group of kids were feeding them, and they were nice enough to share the birdseed with me, and after a while, I just stood there with my arms outstretched and the pigeons landed on them even though I didn't have anything to feed them. One even landed on my head. At the most, it was six, with three on each arm, jockeying for space. And that close up, I got to see how the overall pigmentation shifts both the feathers and eye color: the red-feathered pigeons had a visible yellow circle around the iris, almost like the whites in human eyes.
I was careful enough to touch them a little, not just be a resting spot, and they feel lovely. Soft and smooth and warm and delicate. Not fragile, but delicate.
And now, to enjoy the fact that this is a month with a blue moon, and to enjoy it while in bed with one of my new books.
(The subject line is in reference to the Big Gay Ice Cream Truck, which sold me a cone of vanilla dipped in curried coconut flakes that was worth every penny.)