Home again

[desperance]

So I did go into town, eventually. In my T-shirt, in the rain. A missing chromosome in my jacket-and-genes, alas: I became wet en route.

And then I sat in the Silence Room and worked until I had achieved quota, and never has it been so hard to get there - despite the tiger! who is a good tiger! but not at all what you would expect of a companion animal, oh no - but in the end eventually I did got.

And came home in a retaily therapeutic fashion (book! phones!), and am now frankly frittering my time, for lo, I have quota.

Also, I have remembered that tomorrow the Lit & Phil is closed until lunchtime, for staff training purposes. Lawks! What shall I do...?

Miss quota, probably. In the morning I suspect I shall stay home and bake bread with my reserved sourdough starter, and cook a ham. Then I have a proof to check, and other stuff it wouldn't hurt to read; I might forgo the library altogether, and take those to the pub. And possibly not work on the novel. Again. These days off, they are accumulating; I wish I didn't care.