Monday, 2 February 2009

One foot three inches

Of snow. England grinds to a halt. This is normal. Do not adjust your set. When I was a lot younger, I spent an unreal amount of time trying to work out exactly why this should be... but now, put it down to the marvellous British habit of muddling through. Heaven forfend that we should have a plan, and that plan should be put into smooth operation with immediate effect. Nah. Much more fun if you trust to serendipity... or that old favourite. Do nothing.

It's a good thing that I have food in the house. Because I am not going to try and hike into town. That all sounds like far too much hard work.

I am not a cold weather person. I prefer summer. I like warmth, and sun, and pretty flowers... stuff like that. Not cold, grey/white... and not a flower in sight.

Speaking of hard work. Authonomy. I have to admit that my enthusiasm has been flagging of late. Every now and again I get another little burst. But the now and the again are getting further and further apart. Hassle much? If you don't spend every waking hour Authonomising, some one else will and you fall off the ED. Temper much? Scratchy in the forums... wise to avoid if possible. Though this scratchiness has been almost exclusively male. Proving beyond reasonable doubt that man's place is in the armoury! (or that's where "he" would like it to be!). And the prize... is it honestly worth winning?

Not meaning to be funny, or rude, but some of those crits? Jeez. If the Editor's Cat, Mittens, knocked it up on the ancient battleship of a typewriter that's been stuck in the office since 1950, I wouldn't be surprised. So you stay up until one in the morning seven days a week, plugging and spamming until you meet yourself coming back, for that?? Nah. There has to be a better way.


Gillian McDade said...

I am a summer person too! Very much so. I'm still waiting on our snow - the most we've had is a light dusting.

Mockingbird said...

We have ten to fifteen inches. I can gauge this by knowing how long the dog's legs are, and just how high the snow comes up past his undercarriage...