Headaches before thunder may be the least impressive of all party tricks.
All of human endeavour as tinnitus.
Early morning heat-baked air above and the water–at this depth?–may as well be cool. Early morning white above and the water–at this depth?–may as well be night. A continuity of life, swarming things, and the background hum of men.
Birdsong—delightfully—clearly and perfectly audible through lawnmower-cancelling headphones.
Clearly as apt as anything else.
I clearly have the slogan for my inevitable t-shirt merch.
We must be incomprehensibly slow to all the tiny garden things. Weirdly mobile bits of invasive house.
We are in full garden-coffee and Kindle season.
Reset the counter.
Made the rookie mistake of deciding to organise my hobby space, getting distracted with something else, and now having the psychological weight of ‘oh no, I need to finish all of that first’ preventing me from ever using it again…
Some of the golfers may have been cows.
A day of misty train journeys. Only the closest trees, largest hills and occasional clumps of confused, wandering golfers are visible. All the things are light grey and all the light grey things are now the sea and also now the sky.
This is phenomenally niche, but if you use full-screen apps regularly in macOS and are driven fully insane by one of those windows randomly stealing focus when you switch to one of the others:
defaults write com.apple.Dock workspaces-auto-swoosh -bool NO
(Then kill and restart the Dock)
The sound of early-morning bin lorries on a day off work giving me childhood summer holiday vibes.
Quite an escalation in the neighbourhood cats’ stealth takeover over of my garden. The garage perimeter has now been breached and underwear shredded. I assume as a warning.
There was a laundry basket in the garage «< important context. They didn’t bring the underwear with them. One assumes.
Five minutes from home and passing the courier you were expecting going the other way - an accidental zeitgeist.
I realise ‘unnecessary frilly bib’ may not immediately scream grimdark, but it definitely feels like a Blanche-ism…
The morning Billy-Pilgim-s wildly from quiet summer’s day to house-creaking winter gloom.