Something...(Journal January 13)

Journal,

A strange day.

Also, a rough night's sleep.

But, of course, a rough nights sleep is to be expected after the events of the day before! It would simply have been too easy for me to drop off and dream of sweet nothings.

I managed a semblance of normal today, though it was not easy. My cold may be slowing down my body but it does nothing to quiet my mind. I spent the morning organizing my book shelves, which were in a deplorable state. It did take until early afternoon and was just distracting enough that I only thought of Grendel two or three times an hour.

I cannot decide if I am afraid for him or for myself. Certainly his injury is of concern, but more of concern is that if he injected himself with the same thing he injected me with and it kills him, what does that mean for me? I wish Gizzzy would let me see him…she says it just looks like he’s sleeping. That worries me even more.

When the books were finally in order I put a pot of soup on the hook to cook and went out to get some supplies for the house. I’m afraid the old house really doesn’t stand to be left empty for even a few days and #11 really isn’t a housekeeper, if anything he is the anti-housekeeper, what with his secreting things into corners of the house and all. So I fetched some lemon soap from the chemist and went by the pub to pick up some whisky so I could make a hot toddy for my cold and ran into Mr. Pip.

I am becoming terribly fond of Mr. Pip, despite his affiliations with that foul, crawling creature Underby. There is something about him that is very quiet and undemanding but also something about him reminds me of the old tales of Robin, a peculiar paradox.

When I returned home from my shopping and socializing several things struck me as odd. 1) #11 was acting very agitated, as if something had happened. He may just be feeling anxious, I don’t know if #12 is returned yet. I let him lead me from room to room in the house as if we were looking for something, but we found nothing. 2) The house had a peculiar scent to it…something woodsy & smoky that I still can’t quite put my finger on. Familiar, comforting somehow… 3) Someone had been in my soup pot. Not that I mind, of course, as I am always issuing open invitations to dinner to every half-starved orphan I come across (all Mara’s fault…) but they were far messier about it than usual and left hardly any for my own supper! I should leave a note, but if it were Skyler, Gilly or Jimmy or any of the others, I’m really not sure they could read it.

Well…I think I had best take myself to bed. A good night’s sleep always does wonders to clear up the mind.

~S.Macb.