warm as toast

2

latest observation: toast watching furiosa intently for her reaction to max holding her at gunpoint, and then showing the exact same indifference when max does the same to her

Little things that remind me of the signs
  • Aries: Orange flavored soda, math class, pulling an all-nighter, skipping rocks on the water, making new friends, a pure laugh, buying travel books, going to music festivals, falling asleep in the shade
  • Taurus: Finding an old treasure map, reading mystery novels under the covers, the scent of cedar, having deep talks with your mom, roasting marshmallows with your friends, a full moon, exploring old castles
  • Gemini: Driving down the expressway way to fast, reading novels about magic, missing your mom and dad, peach ice cream, doodling animals in your school notebook, keeping a secret, singing in the shower
  • Cancer: Boarding a flight, the mid-July heat, reading art technique books, jumping on a trampoline with your best friends, waiting for the storm to pass, bakery fresh apricot brioches, relaxing on a river bank
  • Leo: Falling in love for the first time, watching shooting stars, going to an art museum, exploring a grassy meadow, bright blue eyes, peeling an orange, Sunday brunch, the smell of roses
  • Virgo: Sunday mornings, kayaking on a lake, making s'mores on summer nights, having a picnic in a meadow, cuddling with your cat, writing in your journal, baking oatmeal and cranberry cookies
  • Libra: Endless rainy days, watching old French films, sipping freshly brewed coffee, getting strawberry jam on your fingers, watching historical documentaries, the scent of honeysuckle, keeping a dream journal
  • Scorpio: Dark skies, grape jelly beans, finding old love letters in your attic, going on adventures through the forest, the beach in the winter, peanut butter and jelly sandwich, quiet libraries
  • Sagittarius: Dark eyes, paint stained jeans, buying new art supplies, taking late afternoon naps, binge watching tv shows, drying flowers in a book, freshly made lemonade, the scent of cotton, reading on the train
  • Capricorn: Your first heartbreak, sliding across a wood floor in your socks, orange and yellow autumn leaves blowing in the wind, cramming for a test, the scent of cinnamon, reading until you fall asleep
  • Aquarius: French braids, watching a meteor shower, a foggy shower mirror, breeze blowing through an open window, succulents, reading about space, the smell of the ocean, eating fresh red cherries
  • Pisces: Old film cameras, newspaper clippings, a cloudless sky, yellow rain boots, picking blueberries with your brother, sleeping outside on a warm Spring night, blowing bubbles, toast with honey
YouTuber Asks!

I decided to make up some random YouTube themed asks ^-^ 

Jacksepticeye: What’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you?

Markiplier: What makes you happy? 

PewdiePie: Do you prefer to be unique or follow the crowd?

Danisnotonfire: Who is your best friend? 

AmazingPhil: Do you have a crush?

Danisnotinteresting: Name something that really bores you

LessAmazingPhil: Have you ever been rejected by a crush or been through a break up? 

DanAndPhilGAMES: What is your favourite game?

iiSuperwomanii: What is your dream for the future?

Antisepticeye: What’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you?

Darkiplier: What’s your biggest fear? 

Wiishu: What is your special talent?

Darkiishu: What is one of your insecurities?

CinnamonToastKen: What makes you feel warm inside (like toast haha)?

CutiePieMarzia: What would be your dream date?

Matthias: What is your worst auto-correct fail? 

CrankGamePlays: What is your pet peeve? (Because ‘cranky’, you get it? haha I’m so funny lol) 

AllThingsMusic (me!): Who is your favourite artist/band?

AllThingsMisery: What type of music do you not like?

Septiceye Sam: Do you have a pet? If not what do you wish you had?

Tiny Box Tim: Did you ever have a pet in the past? 

YouTube: Who are your top 3 YouTubers?

Feel free to ask me any of these, and reblog if you want people to ask you stuff ^-^

Hidden (Part 9)

My head hits the window as we pull into a place my eyes slowly adjusts to. I look over to Jinyoung and his lips press into a thin line. He gets out first and stands at the front of the car as he looks out to the secluded home, far from the city. I stay in the car. My stubbornness keeps me in place. I don’t want to get out and I certainly don’t want to enter the home if that’s the plan.

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anonymous asked:

Uncles ziam attending Brooklyn's first ballet recital and being overly supportive. Zayn telling people "That's my godchild over there!" Bonus: if Brooklyn does something goofy on stage and they're like "Was that part of the routine?" And Caroline's like "Nope." And they all laugh fondly because that's so very Brooklyn.

I turned this into a stupid ficlet rather than a lovely drabble, sorry nonnie. Hope you enjoy.

**

The hall that the ballet school’s performing in is old. High arched ceilings, a brick building that stands next to the church that’s been here for centuries.

Liam and Zayn have been here once before, to watch a Christmas show when Brooklyn was 3. 

Back then, the ballet school’s budget didn’t stretch to constructing sets or having anything other than a few smelly old heaters scattered around the hall, the smell of burning had meant they’d had to be turned off and everyone had sat in their winter coats shivering and clapping even more than they would have done normally just to keep warm.

Two years have passed.  Two years in which a cash injection from benefactors who wanted to remain anonymous transformed the ballet school and the hall.

The hall’s warm as toast now.

The school can now do what they planned to do all along and that’s invite children of parents on benefits, who couldn’t normally afford the cost of the lessons, never mind anything else, to be part of the lessons 

They can afford sets which transform any building.  Like this building.  As Liam and Zayn walk through the door, it’s like they’ve walked into a Winter Wonderland, there’s Christmas trees, there’s artificial snow, and then either side of where the seats are in front of the stage, it’s like they’re in an enchanted forest.

There’s snow, okay its artificial, but it still creates the effect, which falls as they walk forward and just as they reach the back row of the seats, there’s a stall with 2 women dishing out steaming hot mugs of mulled wine for the adults and hot chocolate and marshmallows for the children.

It’s not even halfway through December yet, but in Liam it stirs up that feeling of excitement that he always feels this time of year nevertheless.

They accept a mug each and there’s a flicker of recognition on one of the women’s faces and she goes to speak, but then thinks better of it and stays silent.

“Cheers babe,” Zayn presses his mug forward and clinks it into Liam’s as they step away from the stall. 

“Cheers to you too love,”Liam replies then they lift the mugs upwards, not taking their eyes off each other as they each take a sip.

Zayn immediately pulls it away, pulls his face and grumbles, “Tastes more like  Lemsip than bloody wine.”

Liam rolls his eyes, “Well,  give it here, then Mr Grinch and I’ll have yours too, and you can have a hot chocolate with marshmallows just like all the other kids in this place,” he finishes the words with a pinch of Zayn’s cheeks.

Zayn holds up the middle finger of his free hand as his response and he looks like he’s about to say something when they hear their names being called and Liam looks to his left towards the seats, and she’s there waving and then she’s not alone, she’s  got a lady stood next to her, about the same height as Caroline. 

Liam and Zayn glance at each other, shrug and Zayn continues to mumble discontentedly about the mulled wine as they walk towards Caroline and whoever the lady with her is.

Caroline and the woman meet them halfway just as Liam drains the contents of his own mug and places it on the tray of one of the caterers as they walk past.

Liam puts his hand out,  ready to shake the woman’s hand when Caroline takes hold of it instead and then jerks her thumb in the direction of the fire exit in the corner of the hall.

Zayn follows behind as Caroline drags Liam towards the fire exit and the woman falls into step with Caroline and Liam.

They reach the door and Liam expects Caroline to open it, but instead she drops her hand from Liam’s and then places it on the woman’s arm.

“Sorry for the dramatics boys, but Helen here has always wondered who her anonymous benefactors are, and I know we can trust her to keep it quiet, if you two want it to remain quiet that is.”

Helen blinks, her mouth falls open before she regains some composure long enough to say.

“You are joking, right?”

Liam and Zayn shake their heads in unison before Liam explains.

“We were sat over there in the corner for the Christmas 2016 show and Brooklyn was one of the Christmas angels, except she was an angel in a duffel coat, like all the other angels cause it was freezing, and we almost froze our peanuts off.”

Zayn picks up the story then, “Yeah, and we were driving home and had the heat on full blast and Caroline was saying that never mind, no heating, there’d be no ballet school come next Christmas if they didn’t have a miracle.”

“And you were our miracle,” Helen finishes with a watery smile,  “I don’t know what to say.”

She looks between Liam, Zayn and Caroline, who puts her hand on Helen’s forearm and then Helen takes a breath.

“I’d love to thank you publicly, and well, I know it easier for you now, and well no time like the pre-.”

Zayn shakes his head, glancing at Liam as he does who gives  a brief nod of agreement, before he says. 

“Caroline told us you told the kids that it was a present from Father Christmas, and well you can’t go back on that, let them believe that, let them believe in that till they get bored of ballet or are too old to care and are just so in love with doing  it that all they’ll be is grateful they were here, and we’ll be the coolest secret Father Christmasses the world’s seen for as long as you need.”

Caroline snorts out a laugh, “That was such a lovely speech Malik, and then you messed it up with coolest anything.”

Zayn narrows his eyes, then shrugs and says, “True.”  

Right at the same moment Liam does. 

Caroline opens her mouth, likely to complain about how predictable they are when a bell rings and Helen claps her hands together.

“That’s my cue, or the kids’ cue anyway,” she  glances between the three of them and then takes a step forward closer to Liam and Zayn and she tentatively places a hand on their arms 

“You probably think you know how much this means, but you don’t, you never will and now I’ll just have to make sure that I listen 120 more times than I normally would to your music, but even then that would never be enou  gh, please come and see us anytime.”

Liam smiles, places his hand on top of the one that’s resting on his arm and says.

“We will.”

She manages half a smile, the tears threatening again, and then she’s gone. 

They watch after as she disappears and then Caroline clears her throat and they turn to her, before she starts to walk in the direction of their seats, before she turns briefly.

“She’s right, you know, you two, you’re not that bad for a pair of soppy losers in love you know.”

Zayn and Liam grin at her, smug expressions threatening to break their faces.

“She loves us Liam.”

“She does Zed, she can’t help it.” 

As they reach the seats, she sweeps her hand in a  gesture that says,”After you,” and they feel the gentle nudge of a knee against their arses as they find their seats.

“Just be grateful it’s not a slap round the chops you cheeky sods, never too old for an arse kicking.”

They sit down then,  glance at each other, the three of them smiling before the sound of sleigh bells fills the air.

“Break a leg Brooklyn,” murmurs Zayn as the lights dim, and the spotlight finds the stage.

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I Want to Have This Forever

(Content: Snowbaz smut + fluff)


BAZ

“I want it all,” I panted into that spot between Snow’s neck and shoulder, gripping onto him pathetically as our hips moved together. He was torturing me in the best way possible, taking care of me.

“You can have it,” I felt him say. His hands were so warm, hair smelled like toasted marshmallows. His growls against my hair were a gospel.

His body felt so heavy on top of mine and I wanted to laugh because I’d dreamed of this for fucking years and here I was, right where I’d always wanted to be, and I could have it any time I wanted. Under Simon Snow, in our bed, with his fingers dancing across my skin in the dark like he knew every part of me.

It had only been in my most shameful fantasies that I’d dreamed of Simon knowing my body so well, that he’d want to know my body that well. That he’d like it.

But he did, and he had. I was coming apart underneath him like usual, he was rocking into me so so sweetly, and I would never get used to it.

I want to drink hot cocoa with you at Christmas, I babbled silently, throwing my head back and licking his sweat. He felt so good in me and his kisses were so soft. I want to tie your neckties every morning because you can’t. I want kids with you. I want you to call me your husband. I want I want I want.

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  • <p> <b>Capable:</b> I actually miss him.<p/><b>Toast:</b> You... you miss... him...<p/><b>Capable:</b> I know, I'm so stupid.<p/><b>Toast:</b> Like... like you're attracted to him...<p/><b>Capable:</b> No, I don't-<p/><b>Toast:</b> Like... he could be your boyfriend? Your war boy... war boyfriend?<p/><b></b> [pause]<p/><b>Toast:</b> I mean, I know it's really hard to meet guys right now, with the apocalypse and stuff. Trust me. And, like, I know that you miss Angharad. But Capable, this is just weird. Like, I wish the internet was still working so I could just look up whatever it is that's wrong with you.<p/></p>
  • Feyre: I think it would be interesting for YOU to cook for ME.
  • Rhysand: *goes blank* Um.... okay then.
  • Feyre: You don't know how to cook either do you?
  • Rhysand: Well... I know if you warm up bread it becomes toast.
  • Feyre: *dies of laughter*
Turn: Washington’s Spies Characters: The Christmas Gift-giving Edition!

Originally posted by kita-procrastinator

(and isn’t this just the most DIVINE GIF, ever?!)

 Ever been curious about what everyone’s favourite characters would be like at choosing/getting/making presents? Ever wanted to know who would be a better bet as a significant other when it comes to gift-giving? Let the friendly Turn Gift-Giving Guide assist you!

Abraham Woodhull: The farmer’s life has taught him some things  - like how to haggle. Mr Woodhall is a dab hand at bargaining and adroit at getting the best out of a business deal.He gets Mary the finer things in life, like silk (or the gift of silver cutlery from an illicit girlfriend on the side, but… somehow I don’t think that was as appreciated as much) You may actually strike lucky, and have something thoughtful and romantic! Unfortunately, his gift for gift-giving depends entirely on how many things Mr Woodhull is trying to do at the time. If it’s a bad year and the spy-workload is mounting you may find yourself with half a field’s worth of rotting cabbage, “best before autumn 1775″. 6/10 when good, 4/10 when bad.

Richard Woodhull: Oh dear. Where even to start with this one? He’ll try to give you what he thinks you need. Which is well-intentioned…mostly. But sometimes his gifts can be rather pointed. A copy of “Blackstone’s Commentaries” once ‘you forget that silly farming business and take up law again like you ought to do,’ or “Designing Minxes: a Guide to spotting Gold-Diggers” isn’t going to cheer up anyone’s stocking, or inspire the most kindly Christmas feelings. Even little Sprout’s gift of ‘my dead perfect sons’ toy soldiers” is a little emotionally charged, and dripping with expectation. Expect glares and tension over this Christmas dinner table.2/10.

Mary Woodhull: At first glance, very proper. Will give out kind, neutral little token gifts; probably something monogrammed with your initials, neat and useful, like a set of pocket handkerchiefs, or a ready-to-hand darning kit in a small, useful box.On second glance, however, there may well be something surprising in there the average housewife doesn’t have -  a discreet bottle of good brandy for the man of the house, or some strong homemade wine that was the scandal of Setauket at last year’s Whitehall garden party.Mrs Woodhull has hidden depths, and a keen eye. 6/10

Ensign Baker: Not a rich man. He’s a poor foundling who gets minimal soldier’s pay, with a slight increment for carrying the flag on parade days. But what he does give you, which is worth infinitely more - is time. He might simply mind a child for you for an afternoon, bouncing them on one knee and playing ‘Ride a Cock Horse’. Or he may just listen to you when your husband or your family doesn’t - and never with an air that he doesn’t care.If he can scrape together enough to get you a small Christmas token, it will be something home-made - a hand-carved figure for your mantelpiece, or a painfully knitted pair of lumpy mittens.Gives more than he’s given. 6/10

Thomas “Sprout” Woodhull: Energetic toddler hugs, or a scribbled drawing in charcoal he made his own self. It may show a rather perplexing scene of ‘Mama fyring her ryfle’, or ‘Daddy’s secret playce’, but heh. Kids these days, eh? Such imagination! 3/10

Anna Strong: Comestibles. Lots of them. Anna knows her stuff; she runs a huge household and thriving inn. She knows an army marches on its stomach. She also knows winter is the time of ‘first the fast, and then the feast’, and occupying army or not, Anna is a practical woman and will make damn sure every household in Setauket is full to the brim with good things to eat and drink. In times of hardship for herself, she can still be genuinely kind and generous to close friends and companions - and has been known to give away silk gowns; old items of luxury from Strong Manor she no longer has any use for - to people who will value and appreciate them.A good friend to have. 8/10

Abigail: A saver, a hoarder of gift ideas, and an all-rounder. Abigail will be contriving a gift for you, no matter how much or how little she has to give.She knows how important clothing is, in presenting yourself to the world - it’s how the world sees you. If she can get you something which is a little bit fine, a little less dreary, she will. She knows the importance of light and colour in the dark times of the year. 6/10

Akinbode: If Akinbode lived in the 21st century, he’d almost certainly be that one guy you dated who urged you to ‘live a little’ and go extreme cave-diving, or stunt-car driving - and would buy you a special weekend offer for them, regardless of whether you actually… wanted to go or not. Gets super-offended if you ask for the receipt, or explain it’s not really your thing. 18th century Akinbode? Well, he’s a proud man. He’ll probably buy you something very expensive and fine in a fit of generosity with the first pay he gets from the Queens’ Rangers - but then ruin it all by talking pointedly about how nice it would be once you’re his wife and he can keep on providing for you like this. He should stop hanging out with that creep of a Major so much. 6/10 for the gift, 2/10 for the expectations that go with it.

Selah Strong: Nothing, he’s too busy either rotting in prison-ships or languishing in Congress. The gift of life, I guess.In that he’s… alive.2/10

Major Edmund Hewlett: A somewhat fussy officer with a lot of money at his disposal, and consequently will throw himself into an agony of prepration to find something you like. When he finally settles (after much mental torment) on a gift, It will be a small but significant thing that feeds the soul. An interesting book he feels you might like to read, or some finely-assorted embroidery silks in just the shade you have run out of - because he has sat for weeks now watching you at your embroidery, and knows to a hair how lovely your hands look as you sit stitching away. Something that touches the heart, in that it shows how much he thinks of you and for you. The only area in which he is a… little lacking is that he can be a little stubborn and strong-willed, and that sometimes the gift he selects for you can be something he’d like very much himself - like a set of fine crystal lens in a black velvet box for his telescope. Or a book on astonomy so he can explain the stars to you. 7/10

Captain (Later Major) John Graves Simcoe: (Jeez, you really want to set Simcoe loose amongst the crowds of frantic, angry Christmas shoppers? Your gift will be that of being a character witness at his multiple homicide trial!)

In all seriousness, the gift would depend on this officer’s frame of mind. Your best case scenario is that the Major leaves it a little late for shopping, and then madly charges into the nearest shop demanding ‘something that will make her love me!’letting the capable shop assistants gently ease his money away from him. You will get a hasty,insane assortment of gifts that are over-blown, bizarre, and more than a little intimidating from the sheer volume of the things. Because it’s ‘what ladies like.’ If you’re unlucky, and Major Simcoe has time to think about his gift, it may well be a handwritten volume of terrible poetry dedicated to yourself. Which he will insist in reading. Aloud. At your dinner party.

But… no matter what the gift, be sure to keep your best look of false enjoyment firmly fixed in place. Not only does this man get super-offended, but he sulks. 6/10 for actual gifts, 3/10 for maturity level

Caleb Brewster: A man who can get you anything, from anywhere! With his smuggling, privateering, and downright piratical contacts, as well as a twinkly-eyed approach to ‘liberating’ goods from the opposite side, Caleb ought to be a high-ranker for this particular one. Unfortunately, the high-value gifts come with a high-risk factor in this gentleman’s trade, so it’s entirely possible Mr Bewster may have got you a diamond necklace - but ‘had ter barter it for passage for marines, y’know?’ Or he was sailing a consignment of salt beef and fine silks downriver, but ‘them pesky Redcoats burnt us out, know what I’m sayin’?’ Better at giving small, well-made gifts that he can work on during the dull times in camp - carved ivory, or wood. And at the end of the day, should his luck be well and truly out on the gift front, he can pull out a penny-whistle and give you a Christmas dance and a kiss by the camp fireside. 7/10

Benjamin Tallmadge: Not at all rich, despite his elevated rank of Major, but Ben is a person who takes his commitments seriously. As a preacher’s son he believes Christmas to be a time of study and reflection as well as merriment, so his gift is likely to be thoughtful, as well as practical - a book, perhaps, picked up from some abandoned half-burned farmstead. Or It may well be just a Christmas letter, written in earnest, about all his fears and hopes for the year to come, his thoughts on the year behind, and all his feelings for you. With his superiors and fellow-soldiers in the army, the gift is much more likely to be a warm Christmas toast - but given with one of those rare sincere “Ben” smiles that light up the darkness of Valley Forge. 8/10

Robert Townsend: The ultimate Christmas troll. Has calmly informed you since at least July that Quakers do not celebrate with gifts and merriment, and that frankly he considers the whole thing distasteful and overbearing, with it’s excess. Allows you to continue in this belief up until five-minutes to midnight after a very dreary Christmas Day, upon which he will produce some fantastic object you have always expressed you wanted. Will smile benignly at your sputtered astonishment/rage/frustration, and then blandly ask what on earth you mean - “Quakers do not celebrate  Christmas with gifts and merriment.” 7/10 for gift, -3/10 for fact you will almost certainly have murdered him afterwards.

General George Washington: Will have already briefly fretted over gifts for friends and family in his spare moments, and written anxiously to Virginia asking for advice. Swift and decisive in the field, the small things in life like Christmas tokens leave him somewhat helpless. Luckily Martha will have calmly made a list and bought in small, thoughtful tokens for his fellow-officers and family months before, - and no-one except close-friends and the rag-tag aides-de-camp know it wasn’t the general who concocted them. The real gift is his calm reassurance and quiet approving smile. 8/10 for George (well,Martha’s) gifts, 10/10 overall

Nathaniel Sackett: You really think Sackett has time to bother with trifling things like Christmas gifts? Here, take this experimental submarine with grenade attachments for enemy frigates and do what you like with it. 7.5/10

Major Robert Rogers: Knowing the ex-commander of the Queen’s Rangers, his gift is probably: Himself, on your hearthrug, with a ribbon-bow placed at a (mercifully) strategic angle on his breeches and a bottle of brandy he cheerfully clubbed a passing soldier in the street for. 2-10 up to 8/10, depending on whether that’s really your thing.

General Charles Lee: A snarky pamphlet commenting bitterly on all your shortcomings over the past year. 0/10, would not recommend.

General Benedict Arnold: The word here is: Overcompensation. His gifts are expensive. Nankeen china, mahogany, a solid gold ormolu clock that plays music when it strikes the hour, silks, you name an item and it’s ridiculously over-priced price-tag, Arnold will procure it - sometimes by ‘diverting’ it away from their rightful owners. He feels people judge him on his humble beginnings, and he is anxious to cover this as much as he can.Fails to realise just how bad it looks when the outraged owners of the goods appear to claim the items back, and will accuse you of ‘not supporting him.’ if you question the legality. 6/10 for eagerness to please, 1/10 for the crushing awkwardness that will ensue 0/10 for arguments afterwards.

Major John Andre: Seriously hard to beat as a gift-giver! Thoughtful, talented, pleasingly rich, but not overbearingly so, Major Andre’s gift to you is sure to be a delight to receive, which may range from an exquisite evening of sophisticated entertainment, music and dancing, followed by some energetic er… gymnastic? exertions in his comfortable bed. To round off the evening,  he will add an elegant personal touch of an accomplished hand-drawn sketch of you. The only drawback is that the Major is exceedingly generous, and to more than one person… 9/10

to girls with skin rich in melanin. your colour may be black, or brown, but it still comes in a variety of shades, tones, and hues. the tones of your complexions may be like that of creamy hazelnut spread. Or like that of Monday morning coffee. Or like that of warm, crispy toast.  Or like that of a cup of milk with a light dusting of cocoa. Or like that of spicy, powdered cinnamon on a bed of buns. Or like that of sweet, runny brown sugar on chocolate ice cream. Or like that of holiday season gingerbread cookies-right out of the oven. Or like that of sanded, polished mahogany wood. Or like that of  (already fallen) autumn leaves. Or like that of the earthy soil. Or like that of the grainy dessert sands. Or like that of freshly mined, unrefined coal. Or like that of a naked midnight sky.

In all your different, diverse hues, y'all still beautiful. y'all deserve appreciation, representation, and most of all, y'all deserve abundant love that beholds the darkness engraved in the magic that is your skin.

— 

Acquelline.K.Wanjiru

.To Girls With Skin Rich in Melanin.

even then, when time decelerates and the relative importance of our lives, of our hurry, undergoes a sudden audit

For all matters having to do with that four chambered, fist-shaped muscle we carry – that carries us – with constancy. That beats – did you know? – more than one hundred thousand times a day. Imagine that. Even when we’re pressing snooze and rolling over in bed, folding ourselves into our covers and postponing the day’s bubbling over, and soon after notching cold butter on warm toast, or later coming to a halt as we bound up a flight of subway stairs only to stall behind an elderly woman whose left leg trails behind her right leg – one leaden step at a time – even then, when time decelerates and the relative importance of our lives, of our hurry, undergoes a sudden audit, even then, our heart never stops…My heart continues as ever, pulsing towards its daily quota. More than one hundred thousand times a day. Eighty beats per minute.

~ Durga Chew-Bose, from “Heart Museum” in Too Much and Not the Mood (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2017)

I’m not always great at reacting to things immediately, especially when I’m sick. So when by husband told me to hold still and flicked a not insignificantly sized spider out of my hair, my only response was to stare at the warm, buttered piece of toast it had just landed on and say accusingly “You got it on my dinner!”