(or, Chinese howling torture).
I am caring for my two delightful eldest grandchildren. So last night Ted was tortured by his teeth, obdurately boring a hole in his gums to escape the closeted encushioned burial in the jaw into the rooted freedom of his mouth. And Ted, generous soul that he is, shared the torture around. He half-woke, and howled for a few moments. Then he dropped back to sleep. After two am, every twenty minutes or so, he would once again stir, howl, and sleep. This gave one unaccustomed to his sufferings plenty of time to ponder the things one does ponder in the night. Some happy, some sad, some just pondering.
I spent a little time considering my prospective hat for my son’s wedding this summer (to go with the fabric you have seen). I think squares, and the top one buckled by an explosion of corn and leaves from beneath. Would abstract shapes add to or take from this? And what length and style should I make the suit jacket?
I pondered, a little melancholy, why this blog does not manage the kind of heavy weight topics which have made Pluralist and Mad Priest such influential blogs. One reason is that my creativity, such as it is, is reactive – I actually do a heap better commenting on the blogs of others than writing my own.
I pondered what attracts readers to this blog (because modest as it is, it does have readers, as you yourself know.) I never know how many prefer the religious stuff, and how many the domestic. I suppose I never shall know.
I refused point blank to start doing sums calculating the various expenditures needed to restore my house, because that way insomnia lies, if not actual madness.
And I wondered how long it would take me to fall off to sleep when Ted finally shut up, and when that would be. It turned to be (respectively) half an hour and about four a.m.