Just a Nice Day

Sunday, and it's just been a pleasant day. Thursday night I was seized by a huge anxiety attack which didn't subside until well into Friday afternoon, and yesterday when I weighed in I found I'd regained a pound and a half, which was depressing, and I really did nothing all day.

Today, however, the sun was out.

I've done a load of laundry and put it away.

I placed an order with Amazon, using the gift certificate my brother gave me for Christmas, and will be receiving books and DVDs for the next couple of weeks (I do love being able to buy used copies of things).

I discovered that I have a biography--or rather, the biography-- of Lytton Strachey, which I don't recall having read before. I sat in the sun and read it as the dogs played outside, then I laid on the couch under the east windows and read. It's over 1000 pages, so I'll be reading it for a while.

I turned the heel on the 2nd of my Spring Lace Socks (begun last April). It really is a lovely yarn--it's a fine fingering, I'm using 00s, but it's quite heavy, and has a soft fuzz to it. I can't wait to see what it's like when it's been washed, and I'm looking forward to wearing them (so I'm looking forward to my new DVDs, which will encourage knitting).

I listened to an interview with Graham Nash. My goodness, how the music brought back memories! Music evokes such visceral memories.

In the introduction to the Strachey biography, Michael Holroyd, the author, tells how he came to consider doing the book, and how he met Lytton's younger brother James, to ask for--basically--his blessing on the undertaking, without which the project would have been impossible. And after having met him and thought it over, James gave him access to all of Lytton's papers--letters, diaries, working notes--things that, at that time, no one outside the family and recipients of th letters had ever seen. Can you imagine? It must have been both incredibly exciting and incredibly daunting. In addition, many of the people involved with Lytton's life were still alive at the time (early- to mid-1960s), and because of James' approval were willing to talk to and exchange letters with Holroyd.

And what, I wonder, will future biographers do? Are emails and blogs really an equivalent to handwritten (or typed) letters, diaries, notes, daybooks? Will people even be interested in biographies in the future?

Oh, and I also got Timber to come out of the bedroom and spend half an hour snuggling with me on the couch. I bribed him with neck rubs. :)