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Late night hauntings
Apr. 7th, 2006 02:50 amWhy yes, I am up at nearly three am. This is what happens when you sleep until one, and then take intermittent naps. After this, I'm going upstairs to shower and hope that that calms me down enough to actually sleep.
We're dogsitting until Saturday, so that means I get to feel poopy in somebody else's house for a change. Fun for all concerned. And my paycheck still has not been direct deposited even though it's FRIDAY now and it usually gets deposited on THURSDAY and I have about fifty-seven cents to my name and I am CRANKY.
On the other hand, I got to jaunt into the library for about a half-hour, and walked off with a nice load of books. I just finished Jim Butcher's Dead Beat, and god, he's like the anti-Laurell Hamilton. His books started out nicely, if not spectacularly, and just keep getting stronger and stronger. I gulped the book down, panting with excitement the whole way.
For later, I have The Historian, two histories of World War I (thanks to the DADA exhibit, my attention has been turned that way recently), and a few others that I cannot call to mind right now. Because my brain is like oatmeal.
Every now and then I just want to wail, "Why does life have to be so fucking hard?" Actually, every now and then I actually *do* wail that. It never seems to do any good, though. At least I am not a wizard being menaced by zombies, fallen angels, or vampires. That would, I have to say, be a lot worse than dealing with a constant money shortage and near-constant ennui. Ennui doesn't leave eldritch stains or zombie goo on you.
We're dogsitting until Saturday, so that means I get to feel poopy in somebody else's house for a change. Fun for all concerned. And my paycheck still has not been direct deposited even though it's FRIDAY now and it usually gets deposited on THURSDAY and I have about fifty-seven cents to my name and I am CRANKY.
On the other hand, I got to jaunt into the library for about a half-hour, and walked off with a nice load of books. I just finished Jim Butcher's Dead Beat, and god, he's like the anti-Laurell Hamilton. His books started out nicely, if not spectacularly, and just keep getting stronger and stronger. I gulped the book down, panting with excitement the whole way.
For later, I have The Historian, two histories of World War I (thanks to the DADA exhibit, my attention has been turned that way recently), and a few others that I cannot call to mind right now. Because my brain is like oatmeal.
Every now and then I just want to wail, "Why does life have to be so fucking hard?" Actually, every now and then I actually *do* wail that. It never seems to do any good, though. At least I am not a wizard being menaced by zombies, fallen angels, or vampires. That would, I have to say, be a lot worse than dealing with a constant money shortage and near-constant ennui. Ennui doesn't leave eldritch stains or zombie goo on you.