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It’s cold this morning, and so dry I’m considering bathing in jojoba oil or something just to keep the chapping and cracking down. We are damp, moss-loving creatures here in the Pacific Northwest, and El Arido makes us cranky. The dogs are skittish too, but that could just be cabin fever. Taking them for walkies in the windchill we had for the past two days was not optimal. The result: both Miss B and I are tetchy as hell, and even sweet Odd Trundles is snappish. The cats are puffy and irritable; the only creature seeming unaffected is the cavy. He wasn’t happy with getting his nails clipped, but sixty seconds after that was over he was back to his gentle, squeaking, I-wouldn’t-mind-a-shred-of-carrot-ma’am self.
Yesterday I made wordcount on both projects, and then some. I also managed to get a chunk of volunteering work done, finally figuring out how to make the data entry workflow do what I want. That kind of scut work is just what nobody wants to do, which makes it perfect for me. I can put in my earbuds, hit shuffle on my playlist, and just go, and when it’s done, I leave it behind in the office and go home. It doesn’t fill my head, and since I’m just a volunteer intern, I’m left largely to myself. It also feels good to be learning new skills.
If it wasn’t so damn cold, I might almost be cheerful. Well, I’m pretty cheerful, considering. I have hot tea and the office heater, and flannel sheets. It would be nice to retreat to bed to work, but it’s hard to type there.
Miss B is a little confused. I’m in my running clothes, which means we’ll go out. But I am also in my Jedi bathrobe, which means…she doesn’t know quite what it means, but the thought that it will interfere with the first run she’s had in a few days is short-circuiting her a bit. No, I will not run with the bathrobe on. (Though I’m tempted. And it’s good training, right?)
But it’s a close call, and when I get home, it’ll be straight into a hot shower and dry clothes, and the bathrobe will make a reappearance. Not to mention a cuppa, and the next scene in Afterwar. Luxuries, all, making me conscious that I’m lucky to have them, even if my fingers are numb.
It’s a good day.