It’s been a cold morning here. I pulled a spare blanket onto the bed last night and woke up this morning feeling toasty warm and, more importantly, not several hours earlier than my alarm. The latter has happened a few times this week, and I suspect that I’ve found the culprit. I rather enjoy sleeping in a warm bed, but that requires the bed staying warm and temperatures in my flat tend to shift several degrees over the course of a few hours.
It’s been a pleasurable kind of Saturday. Last night I ducked out to do some late night laundry, getting home on the cusp of midnight, and this morning I finished reading Dreams Underfood Underfoot before getting up and eating breakfast and drinking too much coffee while skyping friends I don’t really get to talk too often enough. We spoke of books and writing and hopping vampires and eventually got onto the topic of Eurovision, which only one of us was watching, and that was as good a sign as any that we were done. Somehow, amid all that, it has become Saturday afternoon and I’m studiously ignoring the fact that there are people coming to my flat tonight and I should probably tidy up a bit.
Somewhere amid the skype discussion I remembered that I’m meant to be giving people a copy of Black Candy to beta-read in July. It’s probably handy that I spent most of my writing time working on it yesterday, and that I may actually have the shape and the core of the first act figured out. It seems Winter is my writing time, as it always has been, and one day I will succumb and move to Narnia where it is always winter, and I shall be enormously prolific while eating turkish delight and volunteering to opress the native fauns and mice and beavers.
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I joined Goodreads yesterday, and promptly celebrated the fact by spamming everyone whose ever emailed me with a friend frequest. It was not my finest hour; one of the thigns I like least about our socially media world is the sudden rush of email that comes when someone discovers something new and forgets to turn off the email-everyone-I-ever-knew function that inevitably occurs during set-up.
Still, I find Goodreads a somewhat addictive place to spend time, and it seems a much more convinient place to track my reading that the iGoogle to-do list I’ve been using for the last few years. Should you wish to see what I’m reading, or what I’ve read, or even just find out which obscure Queensland town I was born in and can’t really remember, you can probably find me registered under the cunning disguise of PeterMBall.
Having finished Dreams Underfood Underfoot this morning, I’m now contemplating whether to add another new to to the “currently reading” pile or simply move one of the books I’m already dipping into up to the bedside reading position. I suspect I may finish reading Un Lun Dun, which has been patiently waiting for me to pick it up again since I set it aside during last year’s cat-sitting antihistamine haze.
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I really do have to go and clean now. I suspect I will not post tomorrow, for tomorrow is a designated day-in-the-writing-bunker, at least until 4PM when it becomes a designated day where I wander off and play Deadlands with a bunch of people I really like.
