Got up at my usual time. Did my usual thing. I kept watching the clock on the laptop...oh, 6:23, getting late; oh, 6:47, almost time; oh 7:35 need to let chickens out, it's almost 8AM and time for...what? Oh my. No schedule. There is no f'ing schedule for Wed, Thurs, Fri (except satellite folks on Thurs). Next week, art camp begins. But now that her testing is finished, E has no schedule for the rest of the week. So it doesn't matter when she gets up. She is now happily in front of the TV with a workbook of activities that review 3rd grade materials. (No, I don't know why.)
Her old friend in Leesburg called up Monday and wanted to come over. She's been here two days now and is coming again today. Hey, it's interaction with peers, something she needs. Aieee. A house overrun with arguing munchkins. I can't hear myself think. But arguing girls are part of the genship world, so I'm doing my best to cope.
And then I went for chicken feed and did half the mowing. Three hours of mowing. I wear earphones to cut the noise of the tractor, but I was still wondering just how loud it was on my gen ship and if it were this loud, this continuous, would I be able to cope?
The crop of blueberries is indeed tiny this year. So far, I've just been throwing them into my yogurt. They're all fat and lovely from the rain, but just not enough of them. Will there even be one pie?
And now, back to genships, where there aren't blueberries or blueberry pies. Pity.
Meanwhile, Traci is in Tucson (alliterative). And she's petting horses. And learning to scoop large litter boxes. Well, it's only 5 am, so not just yet. In another couple of hours. I am so envious. No horses on the gen ship, either. Or at least, not in this story.
Frog Out
Her old friend in Leesburg called up Monday and wanted to come over. She's been here two days now and is coming again today. Hey, it's interaction with peers, something she needs. Aieee. A house overrun with arguing munchkins. I can't hear myself think. But arguing girls are part of the genship world, so I'm doing my best to cope.
And then I went for chicken feed and did half the mowing. Three hours of mowing. I wear earphones to cut the noise of the tractor, but I was still wondering just how loud it was on my gen ship and if it were this loud, this continuous, would I be able to cope?
The crop of blueberries is indeed tiny this year. So far, I've just been throwing them into my yogurt. They're all fat and lovely from the rain, but just not enough of them. Will there even be one pie?
And now, back to genships, where there aren't blueberries or blueberry pies. Pity.
Meanwhile, Traci is in Tucson (alliterative). And she's petting horses. And learning to scoop large litter boxes. Well, it's only 5 am, so not just yet. In another couple of hours. I am so envious. No horses on the gen ship, either. Or at least, not in this story.
Frog Out
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birdhousefrog- Oz Whiston writing as Oz Drummond
Comments
There's a lot more that line of thought too, like personal property becomes hard to keep personal when you share communal spaces constantly. Would the society have segregation of the sexes based on current mores (i.e. to prevent sex/establish paternity/pass on property), or would they settle on not fighting hormones and have communal living spaces with sexual integration? If so, would that exacerbate or ameliorate the problem of privacy. Since everyone would know you're doing some things anyway, would they stop being 'shameful'? And if they stopped being shameful, would they impact the political lives of people?