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desperanceReal life has too many cats categories.
I was trying to sort books, see.
I have this ... three-dimensional stack between the arm of the sofa and the nearest bookcase. It started out as a neat pile of overflow SF hardbacks, and became the-place-where-the-SF-hardbacks-go, and then the-place-where-the-new-SF-goes, and then the-place-where-what-I've-just-read-goes, and like that. It's kind of a book-and-paper mountain, and I can't get to the second case of SF hardbacks until it's clear, so. It was meant to be a project for today.
I had a box.
Actually, I had looked at the box and thought that's not going to be big enough, but hey. We do what we can.
Just, I can't. I can't deal. I was trying to put hardbacks-that-survive-the-first-filter into the box; but that leaves open the question of paperbacks, and hardbacks that don't, and paperbacks that don't, and, oh, paperbacks that I might well want to read in the next week or two (Steven Brust, largely), and...
And I thought I might put a CD on to help me through, but then I thought I might not hear the phone when Karen calls; and then one of my piles just fell magisterially over, and then I couldn't stop laughing until I looked down at my hand to try to understand the sticky, and realised that I was bleeding.
I don't even. Don't ask me.
As soon as the potatoes are done, I'm opening a bottle of wine and giving up down there. Coming back up here to seek refuge in work. I've written 2K words today; there will be more.
I was trying to sort books, see.
I have this ... three-dimensional stack between the arm of the sofa and the nearest bookcase. It started out as a neat pile of overflow SF hardbacks, and became the-place-where-the-SF-hardbacks-go, and then the-place-where-the-new-SF-goes, and then the-place-where-what-I've-just-read-goes, and like that. It's kind of a book-and-paper mountain, and I can't get to the second case of SF hardbacks until it's clear, so. It was meant to be a project for today.
I had a box.
Actually, I had looked at the box and thought that's not going to be big enough, but hey. We do what we can.
Just, I can't. I can't deal. I was trying to put hardbacks-that-survive-the-first-filter into the box; but that leaves open the question of paperbacks, and hardbacks that don't, and paperbacks that don't, and, oh, paperbacks that I might well want to read in the next week or two (Steven Brust, largely), and...
And I thought I might put a CD on to help me through, but then I thought I might not hear the phone when Karen calls; and then one of my piles just fell magisterially over, and then I couldn't stop laughing until I looked down at my hand to try to understand the sticky, and realised that I was bleeding.
I don't even. Don't ask me.
As soon as the potatoes are done, I'm opening a bottle of wine and giving up down there. Coming back up here to seek refuge in work. I've written 2K words today; there will be more.