Archive for September 12, 2010

Leafsong’s Diary 12.9

I have tragically neglected my diary over the past little while, and for that I aren’t really am truly sorry. I’ve just been rushed off my feet (a peculiar human expression- I think they call it an idiom, though I could be wrong – which I am quite fond of.), with the twins and the older babies, and looking after my husband and – well, not really looking after the business at all. Honestly, I only need to sign the occasional form now, or deal with a customer if there’s an unexpected surge near closing time.

This might be a good time to remind myself why I begun a diary, why I began to torture myself for forty minutes every night struggling to turn the sentences in my head onto words on a page. Because I was a businesswoman, because I had to fill out inventory forms, answer correspondence, write receipts; and my literacy was atrocious. I had hoped that forcing myself to write a little, every night, would improve my writing skills.

It has, marginally, but crucially, I needed the impetus of the GHE to keep me writing. And now, I don’t have this impetus, anymore. My role in the business has been reduced to- well, occasional signer of forms, and token nominal Gladefall.

But I want to keep improving, Analith will be reading books more complex than picture books soon; and I’m sure he’s deduced my trick of memorising the entire thing the night before. I want to be able to read my husband’s books, too.

(Actually, no I don’t. They all have hideous titles, like The Benevolent Savages and Anthropology of a Dying Nation. I think proper comprehension of the quarterly Florian fan club pamphlet is a more reasonable goal for now.)

Anyway, like I said, I’ve been busy with the babies. Mirae has got into a vile habit of eating moths, which is so disgusting I can barely write it down. Why! She seems to have a wild personality (for a three month old). I hope that Loredar will have a calming influence on her. I’ve been sorting out the shipping forms for my husband’s military unit, when I’ve had time. Which hasn’t been often, which may be why that unfortunate mix up occurred. The one where I forgot to order the uniforms for the new recruits, and had to run around all the cheap second-hand stores (so I was actually saving money, I don’t know why he was so cross) to pick up spares. So what if they didn’t match? Or fit? My husband was very quiet when the new Sentinel squadron paraded in front of him in their skimpy metal chestplates. He only started complaining when the overweight Dwarf munitions expert strutted out in the skintight leather breeches. Hmph.

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