Apparently, my body now desires 7.5-9 hours of sleep a night, something it had never needed before in living memory.
Maybe it's the exercise.
Maybe it's the cat, exercising mind control.
I have a blessed week free of external obligations, except maybe dinner with thecoughlin
and my mom on Monday, and I plan to use it to hole up and get some work done. There is bread in the robot and tomorrow I will sojourn to the farmer's market and procure produce, as we're down to a tomato, some celery, two mushy apples, a lemon, two limes, and whatever's in the freezer. That'll probably get me through today, though. I think the apples need to be stewed.
I have a lot of cheese though, which means I will be making goat cheese, roasted garlic, and sundried tomato pizza for dinner tonight, because I can.
Today's to-do list is to finish getting these books into envelopes (I got half done yesterday) and get signed up for that post office box, once I get Santa Claus and a senior CIA official to vouch for me on the paperwork. Then tonight I can print out the return address labels and tomorrow morning I can mail the books.
Also, I need to finish reading what truepenny
has finished of the final draft of Corambis
so I can tell her, I suspect, that there's nothing else that needs to be done with it.
I've got a list of my own stories in progress that I could be working on, but they all appear to be in the rising stage now, and all poking them is going to do is get little lumps of raw dough under my fingernails. Still, for my own reference, here's ( Collapse )
Also for my own reference, here's ( Collapse )
, upon review of which list I notice some definite trends.
I have a pretty good pile here still to get through, and some of what I'm doing this week can involve actually making a dent in the to-read heap. Because the summer convention season of upheval is over, and that means I really need to get back in the saddle again.
And spend less time next year going to conventions, because they really
throw me off my working stride.