Corelli’s Opus 6 concerti grossi, because they just keep going and that is what I need to do. I am nearly done packing up all my worldly possessions for my move into town. I decided last week I was sick of living out in the county where there are plenty of trees, but, weirdly enough, nowhere to walk the dog because you can’t walk anywhere, even along the side of the road, because there’s no shoulder and people go past at 60mph. Fuck this country living shit: my dog needs exercise that does not involve driving to the park. And I am tired of not being able to order pizza. So I am moving tomorrow.
Which means I spent today packing. I have too much stuff. And Finn is very good at being underfoot (one of those words that one doesn’t realize how literally it means what it means until one attempts to box books while being followed by a puppy) and bad at being in the bedroom out of the way. Then I packed his living room cushion and he was moping around giving me sad little looks. And then I discovered that I had packed the pan I intended to make lunch in and I myself was moping around giving the boxes sad little looks. And then I had chocolate and beer for dinner.