A downsizing plan
After 6 hours 48 minutes asleep (according to my phone) I sprang out of bed did the preprandials at double speed because Wednesday keeps in its cardboard kayak the remaining dates of this peak week downsized to four: a social sea-swim plate-glass Pilates a friendly scone and (maybe) Hula by Zoom. Then my brain gave a hint that it planned to go slushy to punish me for smashing its floating routine so I said OK brain my good little brain you done good work in last week's mandatory RAT-bitten writer's retreat. Take a sick day. Take radio. Take Middlemarch by audio. Take your eyes away from the screen. And thus we have floated (my brain and I) through a zig-zag day and Raffles is dead his sleazy secret off like an eel and Bulstrode has got his come-uppance and Rosamund is mourning her stuff and my clipboard is spattered with a grandiose plan to downsize three rooms into one for no reason except I was empty and one day I might have to and it could be a painful sort of fun. But my downsizing plan needs downsizing into a million tiny eggs to be fertilized and hatched one by one by one. ~ Rachel McAlpine (to be amended)
(I know. These are not sonnets. But thanks for pointing it out.)
PS I have heard that Rosamund and Tertius have been engaged to star in Married At First Sight Middlemarch.
PPS This is my third encounter (at least) with Middlemarch by George Eliot, and this time I’m listening to the audiobook provided free by LIBBY, a public library app. So much depends on the reader, and this reader, Juliet Aubrey, is perfect.