It was smacking hot yesterday, it felt like Xmas. Yep, right now all my northern hemisphere friends are going boing! but I'm sorry, hot stinky heat means Xmas to me, and I get quite miserable if December turns out cold, grey or wet (which it has done once or twice in my lifetime).
It was so hot my Dr called me a cab, not at all happy with me wobbling away for blocks in the heat after the amount of blood she'd tapped (and my arm is still sore, dammit - yes, I am such a baby).
Which all brings me to the excuse as to why I didn't get all that promised fic writing done: It was too hot. Truly. It was several degrees above the recommended operating maximum temp for poor old Del Boy and he did start acting strangely and killed an Alessandro pic, so I had to put him away for the night and resort to pencil and paper - egads!
So I'll be typing when the weather cools. It's all a fiendish plot by Republicans to deny me quality time with Del Boy. Oh well, I got some more cleaning done. Probably shouldn't have downloaded all those Alessandro and Ewan pics before I moved onto typing, too.
I was also ravenously hungry for the first time in over two weeks. I suppose it was the blood letting but I could have murdered a chicken sandwich. I wanted a chicken sandwich. I down on my hands and knees needed a chicken sandwich. But the chicken and the loaf of bread were all for my brother, who eats like Henry VIII. Bro came home all hot and cranky (because it's all right for him to be pissy about unhappy commutes) and he rejected said chicken and loaf and it was all tossed in the bin. So I had nowt but a few cherry tomatoes. Ah well, I suppose it's keeping my weight down.
Sort of watched Roswell and Now and Again but I was distracted by the heat and by trying to organise my thoughts on paper - not terribly successfully.
Today I had to go into the city for the Macromedia presentation. I ran into some people I knew so it turned into a school excursion. MM bodgies started by playing this long drawn out montages of images, about as long and drawnout and meaningless as 2001 and I started fishing about on the floor for drugs, as I hadn't dropped enough acid to deal with their cheesy montage and I'd never been to the Metro stone cold sober before and it was disturbing me. Several hours of sales pitch followed.
Free at last (thank god almighty), I ducked around the corner to pick up my standing order. Heft. Obviously I've been too busy working to come in and pick it up in absolute months. Sheepish grin. Or maybe annoyed grunt.
So I lugged it back and here I sit. Fortunately the Ugly Step-Sisters still aren't talking to me so it's nice and quiet at least. I think there's a storm coming in. It's got that feel about it.