The summer has been so rainy in Nova Scotia that about half of my apple tree seedlings have been murdered by mildew. They’re now undergoing a weekly bath with a baking soda/dish soap/water treatment. Every year I grow these seedlings and every year 3/4ths of them drop dead. Unfortunately, I’m very stubborn.
Meanwhile the seeds for next year’s apple trees are arriving and I have so many little apples to chop open. I have my work cut out for me and there’s still another tree I haven’t picked from yet. And prom is tomorrow!
September 8th
Meanwhile, in London, Dr. Lobotomy writes about his evening with Lucy. She woke up from sedation around dusk, looking much better, and spends the rest of the evening struggling to stay awake. Dr. Lobotomy questions her and Lucy admits that she always seems to get worse after sleeping, so the idea terrifies her. Dr. Lobotomy promises he’ll keep an eye on her and wake her if she seems to be having a nightmare, so Lucy relaxes and agrees to it. She lies back and goes to sleep.
Lucy sleeps through the night, not stirring, with a smile on her face. Nailed it! Dr. Lobotomy leaves when the maid comes in the next morning and sends messages to Van Helsing and Arthur to let them know Lucy is doing okay. He has to work all day to catch up with things at the asylum, and even checks on Renfield, who has been quiet. Van Helsing sends a telegram saying he’ll be back in the morning.
I find it terribly amusing that depictions of Van Helsing seem to show him as being a cool dude when he’s actually a bit of a sweet and eccentric professor.
I only have eyes for one Van Helsing (Integra. From the anime.)
September 9th
After two nights of barely sleeping, poor Dr. Lobotomy is tuckered out. Lucy tells him he should sleep and she can stay up this time if necessary because obviously her health is perfect now. Lucy puts Dr. Lobotomy up in a room next to hers and leaves both doors open so she will cry for help if she feels she needs it, so Dr. Lobotomy immediately passes out.
We switch from Dr. Lobotomy’s diary to Lucy’s. She’s happy and energetic and comforted as she feels “Arthur very, very close to me,” I suppose because he blew his load (of blood) into her (veins). She writes schmoozy romantic crap to him for the rest of her diary entry and is looking forward to good rest.
What could possibly go wrong?