Cranky, cold, and nauseated. Yep, it must be Monday.
The only update I have to offer on the ongoing SquirrelTerror is that Squirrel!Neo appears to have won whatever struggle for dominance there was. The backyard is now his territory. Even Tuxedo Kitty and the Siamese from down the street (they observe a studied ignorance of each other that reminds me of some married couples) will not venture into the yard while Neo is hopping about. He came right up to the sunroom door while I was running this morning, put his little paws on the glass, and turned his head sideways, fixing me with one beady little eye.
I’m really hoping he’s not going to hack into the house thinking it’s the mainframe.
And really, I don’t blame the cats. He’s a squirrel with kung fu, for Chrissake.
* A hilarious little piece on dating writers. My favorite is #6. Why? Oh, no reason…
* Mental Floss with 10 ways to learn stuff while procrastinating online. Don’t look at me like that. We know who we are.
* John Scalzi. Writing: Find The Time Or Don’t. I could go off on a rant but instead I’ll just point and say: there. What he said. WHAT HE SAID. Writers write. It’s that bloody simple.
I’ve been reading a lot of le Carre lately, and I have to say, I’m pretty much in love with George Smiley. Round, retiring, expensively but badly dressed, academic, bumbling, and very moist, still, Smiley is my type of guy. Plus, every le Carre novel rips your heart out in one way or another, and I’ve finally got to the place where I can enjoy that in fiction again. Thank goodness.
Well, off I go to nurse what I suspect will turn out to be a cold. Plus, the next scene is burning up inside my head and I have to get it out or I’ll start shuffling around, mumbling, and occasionally laughing at nothing…
…oh, damn. Too late.
Over and out.