Miss · Cornelia · Rothschild

So, much has been going on since my return to society. And yet, not much at all. You, more than anyone else, know how long my nights can be, sometimes...as I never do sleep. It is impossible for me to, unless I should faint dead away. And as Sir always winds me up before he himself retires, that never happens. I spend my evenings reading, thinking, knitting, arranging wigs for the shop...various quiet things that will not rouse Sir from his slumber.

It seems that I have missed so much...including several weddings. And now, a friend of mine from the mainland (proving that they are not all savages) has invited me to serve as a bridesmaid in her wedding, and I am most thrilled for the chance. And yet, a little sad, as well -- sad that it is not my wedding, that I have not found a nice gentleman to care for me. I wonder if human women ever feel this way, at weddings? For I really should feel happy -- and I do. I cannot wait to see her gown, and how everything will be arranged, and what precisely will go on.

At any rate, it is an odd thought, and I should put it out of my mind. After I finish writing this, I will distract myself by catching up with the other journals, which I missed while I was gone.

There was a little party the other night that I attended, and oh, it was so lovely to see everyone. And to actually chat with them!

(Mr. Hassanov went idle at one point, and so the game became 'how many things can we decorate him with before he returns?')

Everyone was merry as ever...and just as many surprising things occurred.

(Such as...flaming foxes. Foxen?)

I have also had the honor of taking several strolls with the Mayor of New Babbage recently, Mr. Shaunathan Sprocket. We always seem to stumble across the most interesting things. He took me to see a steam ship in the desert that an acquaintance of his built for Burning Man, which was most amusing...well...I think the ship is very handsome, but I didn't let on. I don't wish to appear desperate.

(Still...sigh.)

Perhaps my favorite thing we have found thus far is a little shrine to Mr. Nikola Tesla. It is hidden in a corner just beyond Calico Creations -- isn't that odd?

(Mr. Sprocket hailed the shrine with a reverent, "Behold, our savior!" I could not help blurting out, "Oh, that all human men were so handsome and clever as he!")

...it is men, men, men, tonight, isn't it?

Perhaps Mr. Hassanov is right. Perhaps I am now officially an adolescent of sorts. Goodness, maybe I ought to chain myself up in the wine cellar. That must be more dignified, in the end.

Disgusted with herself,

Lia

Current Location:	The Bedroom
Current Mood:	gloomy
Current Music:	VNV Nation -- Illusion