Hmmm, quiet Monday. So quiet. Good thing I dragged myself in because no one else did. Ignored all emails from people who piss me off (TPWPMO) and happily and productively got on with other work and I managed to reformat all of JJ's excellent Sharpe fic, too. Took me a while but I still had time before the shops shut to pick up necessary Guilt Day chocolates and a few necessaries pour moi. I love shopping just before the shops shut. No dreadful filthy slutty housewives (Hogarth has nothing on the local mall) and the shop stewards are not merely relieved but grateful and smiling to have a civilised client. Yes, at last, I've found a safe time to venture forth on expeditions of comercial excess (though in this case it really was just for a handful of new duds because all the elastic on the last batch just went ping - you really wanted to know that, didn't you - grin).
Spent a cold hour or so uploading said updates to web (curse my dial up connection and an AP too cheap to turn the heater on - Bob Cratchit ain't in it).
Then off to shiver through Roswell until I finally broke down and dared to switch my blanket on for a few minutes, just to stave off hypothermia. With feeling restored to outer limbs I snuggled down to watch the second half of Roswell, still with the evil alien blue jelly fish but Michael and Maria were adorable and could Kyle be any more gay? I mean, really? No, I didn't think so either. He's so sweet, and stuck in the cave with Alex, well, I just love episodes that bring the comedy B Teams to the fore.
Nearly dozed off but managed to stay awake for 24 by sheer force of will. I was wondering why Radioactive George had walked out of CTU to die, but then inexplicably turned up at the airport until it was explained that they'd need a volunteer to pilot ze bomb into the desert and go boom. No, not my Radioactive George, I cry, but yes, my Radioactive George as Jack parachutes to safety (I mean as if Jack was ever in any real peril) Palmer watches my beloved Radioactive George go up in ash in the east. Whimper. I loved George. He was my fave. Pout, sulk, whine, grizzle. Oh well, at least it was only a tv death, I comfort myself.
Set the tape and dozed entirely through Buffy. Hope it taped okay, as my shiny vcd collection starts next week.
Today has been quiet too. Still ignoring emails from TPWPMO and it works a treat. In between jobs I've been reading excellent fic (the quality has suddenly gone way up - weird but true) and I'm about as content and zen as I'll ever be.