It’s Sunday night dinner. We’re having pasta, one of those meals I can cook providing there’s a jar of pesto in the pantry.
I haven’t spoken to an adult all day and have rarely spoken to a child, since Vivian is ill and William is in Lego-building mode.
I’m struggling with words, and my husband and I are discussing how we’re going to medicate Vivy for the night so she doesn’t hallucinate about detached arms floating around her head, like she did last night.
“I think we should put the hydrating machine in her room,” I say.
“The what?” my husband asks.
“The hydrating machine. I can’t remember the name for it.”
“That would be a humidifier,” he says.
“Right,” I say, laughing.
“It sounds like you’re discussing technology in the Victorian era,” he adds.
I laugh some more, trying not to snort fettuccine up my nose. “Does this mean I can channel Mr. Darcy?”
This time, he doesn’t mention that Jane Austen is technically pre-Victorian. He also ignores my thinly-veiled Colin Firth reference and launches into his next example. “Are you going to call your mom tonight on the electric talking box?”
“Nope,” I say, pausing to put words in some sort of logical order. “But I am going to write a personal diary entry on my magical typewriter.”
Feel free to leave some lexicon units in the comments below.
Any words you forget?
Any technological terms you can make pseudo-Victorian?