this isn't what i signed up for

I had a pretty good day, although I definitely didn't get enough sleep going into it - after staying up way too late reading, I slept fitfully and was awake well before I got my usual 7-7.5hrs. But I pulled myself from bed, made an iced coffee, and showered - since I didn't shower yesterday, I considered this a triumph. Then I had a morning call with Veronica, which was, as always, a delight.

After talking to V, I made more iced coffee, made myself hash browns and fried eggs for lunch, and then did some stuff around the house - laundry, kitchen cleaning, stretching, talking to [censored], etc. I also forced myself to leave the house to get groceries. This was not a big errand, since I am going back to ye olde Iowa for a few days at the end of the week, but I needed a couple of things to get me through so that I don't just eat takeout all week (not that there is anything wrong with that!).

When I got home, I talked to my mom for awhile - she seemed to be doing well, and she called me back to report that a calico cat that had been missing for several days had just turned up, so that was a highlight. Then I made supper (the tuscan sausage and chard pasta that I had made a few weeks ago - so simple, so good), cleaned the kitchen, folded my laundry, etc.

And then I finished the book I was reading last night - it was A GENTLEMAN IN MOSCOW, which I'd started a month ago and then not felt like reading while I was in Iowa. Also I hadn't felt like reading it because I didn't want it to end. But it was incredible, and also right up my alley for obvious reasons:

• I'm obsessed with zee russians
• I'm obsessed with aristocrats and class issues
• I'm obsessed with fancy hotels
• I'm obsessed with fancy meals and fine wines
• I'm currently obsessed with how extroverts make an entire world and life out of a v. constrained environment, which basically describes my pandemic experience

If you don't know why those bullet points are relevant to this book, the basic gist is that, in 1922, as the Bolsheviks are tearing up the old Russia to make way for the new one, a thirty-something aristocrat is sentenced by a tribunal to life under house arrest in the Metropol Hotel in Moscow. He likely should have been shot, but he'd written a poem that inspired the revolution - so they let him live, but he could never leave the hotel again. He was quite the character, and the hotel itself felt like a character, and the period through which the book is set is, of course, fascinating.

sssanyway, I quite enjoyed it and have now spent two hours going down a vast and deep wikipedia rabbit hole instead of sleeping, so it's time for bed.

And finally - happy mother's day to all the mothers out there (especially to mine!), and hugs to those of you whose mothers aren't here to celebrate. I hope you all had a delightful day!