I'm actually very bad at taking vacations. So many things I should be doing, and none of them done. On the plus side, we have the new fridge and it's been changed to actually work in the space it occupies - after 2 hours on and off the phone with Sears trying to find my damn appointment, and dealing with everyone from nice and clueless to assinine and - well, clueless. The vaguely polite but helpful ones at least got the job done, so no actual complaints will get registered. Still annoying. But it's annoying in a way that keeps my milk cold, so there you go.
The PDA is still dying. Dead, actually; I hadn't put it on the charger, and it wouldn't turn on at all yesterday. Once it was plugged in it started - as brand new, nothing but factory installs. And the backup file is at work. Alas. At least the data cards should be safe, and I'll just have to wait til Tuesday for reload. Annoying. Guess I can't complain for used, but still... Meh.
Flash of remembrance... A couple nights ago I was watching Antiques Road Show (ah PBS, how I love thee). And someone brought in a painting of a young Italian woman, dark eyes and sad little smile. A Roman tourist postcard, for all intents and purposes, painted for souvenir trade to people visiting a very specific landmark... the Cenci palace. Adrian couldn't quite understand why I stared so hard at the TV, trying to understand what was in that very simple portrait of Beatrice Cenci. But I have to admit a certain fascination with the subject, despite time and distance (I"m not really talking physical distance here) and the - distaste? annoyance? - other people may feel for a play I was honored to be in and ashamed I couldn't do better for. It's a hell of a story: intrigue and incest, death and dishonor, people doing horrible things to save their sanity and honor at the cost of their souls. It probably deserved better than any of us could do at the time. An ideal I treasure. She was not beautiful, but she was a striking woman, Beatrice, and I wish I had seen the portrait when I was trying to be her. Don't know that it would have made a difference, and she wasn't that different from what I had pictured, but you never know.
Laundry. Why doesn't dirt ever take a vacation? Ah well, at least something will get done today.