Zen emptiness
Now Playing: Kate Bush, Running Up That Hill, Sweep remix
I don't think I've ever used that "now playing" thing.

I've spent the past week, unsleeping, on a mad rampage of cleaning and purging. I took everything out of the attic. Rid myself of things that have not been looked at, or used, in some cases, since we moved in. Packed everything else into Rubbermaid bins and labelled it. Stashed it back up there -- neatly! In rows along the sides.

It gives me great joy.

Next, I moved into the pantry in the basement. Cleaned. Scrubbed. Vacuumed up spiderwebs and stray leaves with the Shopvac. Rearranged everything, and moved a great deal of less-used baking pans and appliances down from my inadequate kitchen into there.

Further joy.

Now, I'm going through random cupboards and sideboards and things, and doing the same. (I'm trying to avoid the basement proper, since that is a nightmare with which I am not yet psychologically prepared to deal.)

I am tired of things that we do not love and do not use weighing on my life.

I am very tired, though.

Most recently watched: Dark City.. I like this film a great deal, and not merely for the reason which is probably making my readers (if any) snigger to themselves.

It is not quite a great movie, not quite as great, I think, as Roger Ebert thinks it. (Unbelievably, one of the commentary tracks on the DVD consists of Mr. Ebert rambling on for the full length of it about symbolism and German expressionism.) But the first time I saw it, it shocked me, because I have had that dream. I have been the one wandering through the sunless streets, ever-changing, trapped in there by impassable borders, pursued by dreadful beings with hideous powers, and finding the same power to defend myself. I have had that dream. And I've escaped from it into the sun.