Going for a walk helped.
I used up my free Audible book the other day (Cut and Run---which was good), and no podcasts were appealing, so I looked at Audible again, and it seems they're letting things for kids, including educational-seeming things, stream free. I scrolled through and picked out The Canterbury Tales, in what turns out to be a great translation (if that's what you call a contemporary-ish English, vs. the Middle). And it's read by good readers. Walking in the spitting tiny-pellet cold rain was a pleasure, hearing Geoff start to lay out who-all was with him, and how clad, etc. When I got home I called up the original and listened to a little more. Now I can't imagine a better tale to set off on listening to, in these times. The only drawback is that you can't outright download it, so it lags, buffering, when out of range of wi-fi. Maybe I should just give 'em the $$ and sign up for the real thing.
Once upon a time I loved the sound and feel-in-my-mouth of that medieval tongue so well that it was what I thought I'd most want to go study further. U Penna was the most appealing spot, after I talked it over with my old pal Polly, who knew what was good to read where, back then. Alas, that plan fell through. A woman was involved. What can I tell you. I loved a feeling of being special to some other soul, whom I loved, more than I loved those words as I spoke 'em. But they touch a delight, still, in me, and I am older and calmer now and can attend them better, and too I have much more sense of life now, so am not so lost in comprehending the breadth of what is being told me.
If I thought it was hard working from home before, this option is going to ramp up that difficulty. Unless mayhap I use it as a carrot at the end of the editing (and pseudomanagerial) stick. Tho it's more a sweet treat. Or, in Chaucerian food terms, a particularly savory choice of steak, be it from such foul as swan----
you all are really not going to be able to stand my sentences if I keep going with these stories. I shall have to stick to postcard pictures!
As I came back down the muddy drive to the homestead, I thought how April may not be the cruelest month, but it will be cruel, when those things happen that happen at the beginning of the Prologue, where bygynneth the Tales, and it becomes the time that folk longen to goon on pilgrimages. And folk cannot, for folk gotta stay inside with the Netflix, and just walk around neighborhoods and come back to sleep in the same place, and never meet a bunch of interesting strangers in an inn, like that old school I have that room reserved in for the beginning of June.
But, hey, it's not like I'd be sitting at big tables with 'em, lifting mugs and hearing a tale teller tell us tales of such gatherings, and then relay the tales that all those gathered told.
My blanket has arrived, already. Maybe tonight I'll open a window for the cats and make it extra-chilly in here, so's to necessitate curling up under it. With another Better Call Saul, maybe. I'm rationing those like so much toilet paper.
Now another bow tie shot, as I was fresh back in from my walk.