Dolorous. Isn’t that a grand word? Sonorous, rolls around the tongue and sounds like meringue would sound if meringue made a sound at all. Came into my head when I was searching for a way to start this entry, describing the day. Strange, though, because it means almost the exact opposite of my day. Dolorous the day was not.
Hey ho.
On our return from our errands today Graham decided he needed a break from construction work and turned his hand to laundry instead. Dolly took a break from sitting with gritted teeth watching the construction work in progress and turned her attention to a good long doze on the bed. So long that, when she woke and came down to see what all the silence was about, she was stiff-legged and dizzy with sleep still.
“You’re supposed to wake yourself up with a bit of a grooming, Dolly,” I said. ”Not stagger about the house looking like a fur rug trying to imitate life.”
She just huffed and went to stand by the kitchen door until we let her out for a breather. Then she had a bit of a groom, groaned, and threw up a massive hair ball on the step.
I suppose you could describe that as being a bit dolorous if you were that way inclined. I didn’t, though. All I did was to tell her what a good girl she was, take a handful of kitchen tissue and dispose of the product of her groaning.
Me? I just meandered through my day, happy as can be, looking after and picking up after my companions. Doesn’t take much to make me happy, and I can’t be doing with dolorousity even at the worst of times.
