Urgh. I hate it when it gets cold outside. I have a long thin cut on my hand from goodness knows where, simply because my hands were too numb with cold to feel the damage I tend to inflict upon myself. There was a time when I used to think I was quite graceful. That was clearly the delusions of youth.
Back at work now, Christmas decorations in a box in the attic, and nothing but a slice of Christmas pudding in the fridge left as a reminder that there once was a holiday. I miss it already.
Instead we get snow, first day back, and so my office is even colder than it usually is on the first day back when the university has been closed. Brrr.
Sorry, I didn't blog to complain. Guess I have the "first day back at work" blues.
I've been reading the Twilight series in the break. I need to get the third book now. It's good. *shrugs*. It works because the emotions are very real; by that I mean, the author can get away with the crazy stuff, and even some dodgy dialogue, because the emotions she presents are very identifiable, the characters are real, and empathy is established, creating this very believable, unbelievable world. It's the same sort of thing with Harry Potter - although the Potter books are smarter and have plots - and it's a nice escape. Sort of makes me wish I was seventeen again (though only just!).
I'm going to be working on chapter two of Inter Vivos later today, and I'm sincerely hoping that Meyer's characters are out of my head by then. My head is like a sponge sometimes, and I hope it's all gone before I put pen to paper (or rather, fingers to keyboard). Though half of the problem is that I don't want to put them away, I much prefer their world than the personal one that I'm in today, back at work, in the cold, with no one to talk to. How utterly depressing that sounds!