Doing All The Things
Jul. 24th, 2012 03:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rinueI'm a little better than 50 pages into Madam Bovary, which I am reading very slowly because I am on too many deadlines to do otherwise. It is a piece of literature that is not disappointing at all; I have not had to adjust expectations in the slightest. (Helpfully, I had very few expectations other than that I had read an excerpt once and liked it.) The whole thing feels very modern, and is a reminder that sometimes describing the scenery and what everyone is wearing is not a waste of time at all.
The book has recently, without saying it outright, made the observation that sometimes efforts to beautify one's surroundings and find cleverer ways to do things is a sign not of growth or nesting, but of depression. I recognize this kind of depression. I don't feel it at the moment, but I recognize it.
A mild head cold is circulating through the household, and I haven't gotten it yet but presumably my turn will come.
The book has recently, without saying it outright, made the observation that sometimes efforts to beautify one's surroundings and find cleverer ways to do things is a sign not of growth or nesting, but of depression. I recognize this kind of depression. I don't feel it at the moment, but I recognize it.
A mild head cold is circulating through the household, and I haven't gotten it yet but presumably my turn will come.
