delga | { a time when your heart was open wide and you loved things just because. }

Let's talk about how coming home is like moving time zones, shall we? It's 1721 over here and it actually feels like that's the right time. Ignoring the fact that my body doesn't seem to be able to deal with the sudden drop in temperature (it's freezing; I forget that about being in D.) and the fact that I am date challenged ("It's Tuesday today, right?" "Wrong." "...what?"), whenever I'm in D. I always know the time. I don't have to look at a clock! I get tired around 11pm! I sleep through the night! I wake at a Human hour! Lunch time falls in the middle of the day. I think it's all the exposure I get to daylight here that makes the difference. (Bay windows = love.)

So, I've been promising a recs post for forever, but looking at my del.icio.us account, I think it's going to have to be 'posts' plural. I've started doing that, though, so the first of those will be up soon.

Today I spent the morning standing behind the till at The Dad's store - D. is deathly quiet so the shift went slowly, except for The Dad coming in and out of the store. As part of his work with the local Rotary Club, The Dad has been involved in a local school art exhibition. This morning, he and the Club president had to judge the entries and pick winners. He also had various other chores to get done, and The Mother went to a computer class, so I was all on my own.

Although it was boring as always, it was nice to see the locals. One gentleman, Mr N, is originally from Poland (not one of the 'Poles' the documentary was talking about; Mr N is post-war immigrant) and I first met him when I started working for The Dad 5 years ago. Back then Mr N would barely look at me. Today he walked in, saw me, smiled wonderfully, and we had a pleasant conversation. ("Have you passed, or did they kick you out?" Pleasant is a relative term, naturally. But he wasn't being ornery, just joking.) Anyway, that was less stressful than it used to be.

This afternoon I've been sitting in the study next to The Dad watching (and dictating) as he writes a letter to one of the schools which participated in the exhibition. (OH GOD: LEARN TO USE KEYS LIKE 'END' AND 'HOME' PLEASE OH GOD PLEASE.) The letter is to inform the schools of the winners and of the prize-giving date. That took at least an hour. After he left, I formatted the whole thing, spell- and grammar-checked it, and then saved copies with the different school addresses so that all he has to do when he gets back is print them out. (We were working off letters that another Rotarian sent out last year - whoever he is, he needs someone to check his writing. Atrocious spelling mistakes!)

Irony: I stopped half-through the above paragraph to answer the phone. It was The Dad who wanted me to (a) find a telephone number of one of his Rotary partners, and (b) send said partner an email. Admin skills? Check.

Since Friday, three different people have commented (positively) on my diction. Ironically, I was being arch on all three occasions. Verily M's Voice of Bitch = well-spoken at the very least.

Normally travelling home is quite stressful but for whatever reason, it went really well on Saturday morning. I caught the uni bus at 8am and made it to the train station in time to catch the 8.30 train to Waterloo - a boon because I think the 9am (the one I actually had reservations on) would have royally fucked with my day. Got in to Waterloo at about 9.45a, and then took the Northern line to Euston. Thankfully the Northern didn't have any delays which is a rarity. At Euston I was then going to take the inter-city Northern line to King's Cross but that was closed, so I ended up taking the Victoria instead, but that was fine, too. There was this really lovely man who saw that I was struggling on the steps with my suitcase and bags, and he helped me get to the platform. My suitcases = the reason why I usually miss the tube I need. He really saved me some time, and he made me smile for ages. So kind! Anyway, I got to King's Cross with about 5 minutes to spare before the cross-country service to Aberdeen set off which was fab because I didn't have to sit in the vestibule and I actually got into P. at 11.15am! That? Is INSANE. So awesome.

The Mother was not prepared for my timeliness, so I ended up catching local transport to D. Dropped off my suitcases &c. (my shoulders are still in pain: laptop was in my backpack, ow), walked into town to see The Dad. As soon as I got in, he put me on the till (natch). Finally, an hour later, I made it across the road to see Baby Cousin who has, thankfully, learned the reflexive and no longer refers to herself in the third person.

My aunt gave me lunch (huzz!) and then about an hour later The Mother turned up. We took Baby with us to B. where The Mother had to get some stuff; we bought some Easter-themed biscuits at the bakery. Played with Baby Cousin all evening - she stayed over, only to wake me up really early on Sunday morning. Fantastic. Played with her until about three in the afternoon.

Last night, because The Sister doesn't want me working in the study, The Mother and I moved our fold-able (extra) dining table upstairs into my room so that I can work in here instead. So now I'm sat in my bedroom with this tiny plastic lamp and an extension cord marking a white line across the room. All in all, a long and tiring weekend, but mostly of yayarms.

Benefit of being home: reliable net connection! Additional benefit of being home: reliable net connection that always loads LJ userpics! Smashing!

The music blogs that I'm subscribed to via Google Reader have supplied me with endless Rilo Kiley this weekend, not to mention other wonderful things. Thus, I'm now listening to 'The Execution of All Things'. A Better Son/Daughter is one of those Rilo Kiley tracks that I hated the first time around (why???) and now LOVE quite viciously.

Now: to answer comments and emails. Huzzariffic.