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Fun with housework

I need to poke Darkside about the laptop, because it has a new home to be going to.
I need to do laundry. I need to clean my purse. I'll need to get that rent check turned in.

I have succeeded in organizing the closet into the categories it's supposed to be sorted into, more or less, which has uncovered my missing nightgowns. Hooray nightgowns! The humming bird feeder from Motley has been assembled, filled with yellow-tinted sugar water (yes, I'm a sarcastic Lunatic, in case no one noticed), and hung, to the accompaniment of falling-off parts and spilled sugar water.

The newest of my new shelves is now assembled, and is waiting to be populated by diverse items from the southeast corner of the living room. Now it has lots of electronic bits in various nooks and crannies, and a happy stereo system up top. I cracked the stereo's case to rescue the dislodged CDs inside that were rattling around and jamming in the way of the opening mechanism for the CD tray.

I have a Slytherin scarf in the works. My trusty Sharpie marker and I have labeled a pantry drawer "TFM", which accurately describes the contents. I have a rather lot of them.

I'm typing up things that are on the scraps or loose sheets of paper that I find scattered around in the unpacking and tidying process. So far, this has included a fragment of the "Dear You, Love, Me" thing I wrote at work, with a few other things queued up to go as soon as I finish putting an unsent note in the proper place in the LJ.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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