Stuck on Vesuvius

Wintry mix hissing through the fir branches and slitherbumbling along the roof are mixing uneasily with the documentaries on Pompeii I’ve been watching recently–in particular, this eight-minute museum short, which shows how a time-capture of the disaster might have looked. I don’t know why my brain is stuck on Vesuvius, but I suppose it’s necessary to feed something down in the subconscious. I’ve learned to just go with whatever rabbit-hole interest pops up (within some kind of reason, of course, or I’d never do anything else) because sooner or later, it ends up being useful.

Maybe it’s the news about Mauna Loa’s recent activity? I don’t know. Either way, the Muse has decided she wants to know more about the disaster in 79AD. It’s likely something similar might work its way into a story soon.

Boxnoggin has forgotten about dry summer days, but he is not quite ready to halt complaining about the damp just yet. It’s the same every year–it takes him weeks to adjust when the rains finally come in, and if we get truly chilly winter conditions he grouses a bit. If it’s too icy walkies will be severely shortened, in deference to his tender paws. Now, you might ask, why not get him doggie shoes?

My beloveds, this dog is a drama queen. You simply cannot imagine the stunts he will pull if I ask him to wear something protective on his dainty widdle feet, although he will also complain endlessly about muck or puddles–when he’s not trying to drink from the latter. He is a creature of much paradox, our Lord van der Sploot.

So far, Monday has Monday’d so hard it has continued into Tuesday. There’s a volcanic disaster filling my head, I did four polite business correspondence emails before coffee, the caffeine still hasn’t soaked in but that could be a function of nothing really settling well last night. The last time I remember glancing at the clock is around 3am; I hesitate to say I was conscious at that time but at the same time, I was certainly not asleep. Or if I was, I was dreaming about rolling over and looking at the clock, so that’s hardly restful.

Once my inbox calms down I might be able to attempt some breakfast. I’m considering an extra jolt of coffee just to get me vertical enough to take Boxnoggin for his morning ramble. If the java doesn’t manage to kick-start me maybe the weather will.

If I get through a reasonable amount of work today, I might even reward my tired brain with more Pompeii documentaries. There was a special effects extravaganza masquerading as a movie with Kit Harington about the whole affair too, which I might even take a peek at. I could do with some cinematic volcano violence, apparently. In service to the Muse, I have watched much worse.

There. The plan for the day is sorted. Now all that remains is to get the fuck away from the glowing box on my desk and begin it.

Oof. Easier said than done…