Somewhat horrifyingly, I may be about to call my own bluff.
A braver painter would just straight up Bombadil this guy.
Egg-inna-mug season.
Egg-inna-mug weather.
TikTok sometimes really does surface absolute gems, and I don’t just mean the infinite cat and pupper videos. Found via the algorithm, Colin Vearncombe’s acoustic version of Wonderful Life: https://youtu.be/AqXzRTT0csI
There’s something very specifically Septembery about walking to the local post office in the driving rain.
It’s weird that it even fits, who knows how many other things I can no longer see that I’ve put there before it. Sun lotion from 2010. That pair of dedicated Amazon-box-opening scissors I bought a year or two ago.
Knowingly re-entering the transition-space between ‘I’ll just set this on the banister so I remember to take it upstairs’ and acquiring a cool new invisible banister ornament.
It’s basically Orktober, right? The season arrives earlier and earlier…
What on earth is the link here? Smuggling? https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2019/02/15/upshot/british-irish-dialect-quiz.html
The unique zen of debugging a performance issue that I apparently introduced, finding a workaround that seemed to correct it, then only later realising the true issue pre-existed my original change and neither it nor my fix could ever actually have impacted anything at all.
A metaphor of some kind there.
I now need a word for the sense of bone-deep disappointment that I will never be able to read the continuing fictional adventures of this entirely non-fictional white-suited old man. https://assemblag.es/@hugo/113142203879640471
Uh oh, my Phrozen Sonic Mini suddenly seems to think Z0 is somewhere below the crust of the earth, and won’t let me re-level until it gets there.
The cool wind in warm sun days arrive. I have attacked some weeds in celebration.
Cannot second this recommendation from @rollleafd strongly enough if you’re a hobbyist of A Certain Vintage and want to just soak in the nostalgia of nineties-era Games Workshop before it became what it is today, direct from the brains that built it. https://warhammer.social/@rollleafd/113063302042370623
They seem to be more heavily tied to the past too, when they come. If I’m trying to find a thing, it’s in my mum’s old house. If I’m trying to explain a thing, it’s to friends I haven’t seen since school. Some deep part of the brain calcified at puberty.
There must already be a name for the very intense and exhausting dreams that come with the change in light and temperature at the turn of a season?
Cool and rainy, slowly darkening evenings. Looks like we’re already at that part of the year where I have to keep my delight at the change in seasons a secret.
Every time Congregation by Low comes up on the playlist I feel the urge to rewatch Devs.
Technically I wrote said logic, but still.