---if i were a victorian lady, i would do nothing.

seems as though november squirrel brains arrived prematurely this year. i find myself procrastinating procrastinating. this usually entails doing work that’s due way later than the rest. or, doing the least painful assignment in order to avoid the most painful one. of course it’s the dread that’s the worst. and the thing about dread is it’s all in your head.

was drifting in and out of florence nightengale’s cassandra this morning/afternoon. kept considering how i really just want to do nothing. day dream. read trifles. learn snippets of a new language, as a conversation piece. zero intellectual expectations.

wait a minute. what an ungrateful wench i am. i could have been that victorian lady. caged by my dress. unable to freely entertain imagination. would have no time of my own. anyone could interrupt at any moment to call on me. the call would include a glorious 15 minute conversation about nothing. i could sew. i could embroider. read aloud sometimes. that could be my life. all this entails being of the victorian upper crust, would that be the case?

if last names mean anything...

stewart: 1. a. An official who controls the domestic affairs of a household, supervising the service of his master's table, directing the domestics, and regulating household expenditure; a major-domo. Obs. exc. Hist.

i’d be of a working class family.

which means i’d probably be spending my days cleaning out chamber pots, or trying to get industrial grit off the cobblestone driveway.

better get back to my reading.