{ things, things, and more things. }

[delga]

So. I thought I was late. I thought I was late because of a number of reasons, none of which change the fact that it's only 8am, and thus am ridonk early. I could go in now, true, but I might lose the will to live. See: that's always a possibility.

Thus I have another 45 mins to spend at home, and I'm up in time to see the low dawn, so everything outside is misty, sharp, and aglow. Which is also to say, pretty or not, it's damn cold out.

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I am waiting for Mad Men which has yet to turn up. This is Very Distressing, naturally.

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I finished Joshua Spassky at long last, and it turned out to be a love story which was not entirely what I was expecting. Better than when I picked it up, the ending was matter-of-fact and entirely correct for what the novel(la) was. And now I'm reading fairy tales, all of which are matter-of-fact and not all of which seem to have a purpose. It's Russian fairy tales that I'm looking for now. Oh, Propp; verily I yearn for school still.

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The decisions I must make every day: to cling to my brolly, or to be unencumbered by all things!

Except that's a first-class ticket to a head cold in this country, and damn, I just remembered that I have train tickets to book and buy.