I've been going through my Project 365 set on Flickr - going through it and going through it and alt tabbing over to Wikipedia, which has a thingie whereby you can see what day of the year it is (as in, 279th day, etc.) and it's clear that somehow, someway, unsurprisingly, I have screwed up Project 365. The numbering is off; things fall apart; apparently in a fit of overdone diligence I must have put up more than one picture on one or two days. There should be three missing days (one of those is in the underwater camera, but given that it's October now and I doubt I'll be out floating around somewhere I need an underwater camera again til next summer, I have a feeling it's not going to get developed, because I am not going to waste half a roll of underwater film) and one extra picture (James McMurtry, be still my beating heart) - but damned if I can figure it all out and then the actual numbering was starting to make me tear my hair out. You wouldn't think it would be so complicated. Or maybe you would; I don't know.
Of course, this matters to precisely noone but me. I recognize this, but although the truth may shock and awe some of you who know me well, I do have an obsessively organized side (it just doesn't extend to my house or office, really) and this kind of pointless project is right up its alley. And that side of me is having fits. The laissez faire side of me, on the other hand, is saying, what the hell. Ignore it. So you have 360 pictures at the end of the year or something. Then you get to dump some dumb ones, thank god. This kind of heresy reduces my OCD personality to sputtering speechlessness.
So there we are. In other news, I decided this morning that it's a good thing I'm not a poet, because I started waxing poetical purple this morning about the "heron haunted river" until it occurred to me that whatever it is that herons do, they do not haunt. They're not subtle, they do not waft and they are not ectoplasmic. Most of the time, they look annoyed, actually, and petulance is not a noted quality of spirits and, alas, "heron annoyed river" just doesn't sound as, well, poetical.
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2 comments:
ok fliss, I am a really good friend...and I gotta tell you, skip the prep school vocabulary lesson! we voted for you because you are real! not because you "wax poetic."
Hee, dude(ette) you have not heard half of my adjectival repertoire yet! Just for that, I'm going to do an entire post on the habits of herons. One of these fine days. ;-)
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