Praise then darkness, and creation unfinished

I've done the paid work that has been sent me this week. Interesting, proofreading an ad with no original to look at: in other words, I'm checking for spelling and sense, but supposed to mark minimal changes because it's already at the layout stage. (It's all been cold reading of this sort, but advertising is its own brand of weird: fortunately, this was just a "coming next month in this magazine" notice, so not too strange.)

I've done a chunk of Tiptree reading: finished the novel I've been working on all week (largely on the subway), and read two short stories. I liked both short stories, though one of them was another case of "I like this, I'm glad to have been pointed at it, but it doesn't feel very Tiptreeish".

I also went out and got rye bread (which means a short subway trip), groceries, and exciting things like hair conditioner. Looking at my groceries as the cashier rang them up, it occurred to me that a stranger could deduce two things from the selection. That I had other food at home, because this selection wouldn't go together into a mea;, or even a single dish that could be brought to a potluck, and that I like peas: the six items included a bag of frozen peas and two bags of dried green split peas.

Not bad for someone who slept until ten and didn't get dressed until after lunch.