So for the last couple months I've been reading the diary of Samuel Pepys via the fine website at The Diary of Samuel Pepys. (Good title, amiright?) And... I'm getting a little freaked out, because this has been happening a lot lately: I finish my day, fire up the Kindle, and right there in the next diary entry is some reflection of his from 1662 regarding the EXACT THING I have spent my day doing. Like, painting the dining room. Or moving furniture in my home office. Or wondering about the motives of a business acquaintance. Or worrying about taxes.
This could be really good for me, e.g. Sam was President of the Royal Society when Newton's Philosophia Naturalis Principia Mathematica was published. Or this one, from the entries I'm currently reading: he and some Navy Office mates are digging in the cellars of the Tower of London, looking for buried treasure. (I'm guessing they won't find anything, but still...)
Or it could be bad. In last night's entry, he had received a letter from his wife, supposedly detailing her arguments about some household changes being contemplated, and also her stance about how high-handed he has been lately. He didn't unseal or read it, thinking to burn it in front of her as a show of force. I sure hope he comes to his senses real soon now. In my own era, we have not yet progressed beyond casual disputes over which bits of junk from 25 years in this house might be discarded before our move.
No comments:
Post a Comment