My usually viscous honey refused to oblige to gravity. Here it is stoically in its jar.
Nothing could be done but spend all morning reading in the bathtub.
Nothing could be done but spend all morning reading in the bathtub.
"Perhaps the immobility of the things that surround us is forced upon them by our conviction that they are themselves and not anything else, by the immobility of our conception of them."
...or because it's just really cold, Proust.
"he did nothing all morning and spent the afternoon
writing up what he'd done in the morning."
writing up what he'd done in the morning."
"He never did anything to me it's true, but I once played a most shameless nasty trick on him, and the moment I did it, I immediately hated him for it."
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