Things:
*** I am being swallowed whole by the Spirited fandom, here and on Twitter. So much fun, omg. And such a great combination of incisive intellect and high-larious spazzitude.
*** My first order from an etsy shop arrived today. A package from Spain! *squee* One frayed denim bow bracelet for me and a certan summin summin for someone else. Really I'm on tenterhooks for the second order to arrive. From Germany! *squee*
*** I am finally reading that Patricia Bosworth biography of Montgomery Clift. My god, it's so well-written. My god, he's so fucked up. My god, I'm so glad I wasn't alive back then. My god, I want The Search and I Confess and Terminal Station/Indiscretions Of An American Wife. Nnngh.
*** Oh yeah, I chopped all my hair off on Sunday. So far, everybody is amazed with delight. Even more so when I inform them that I chopped it off myself. Totally doesn't look it. I'm rather amazed myself. Today one person said she preferred it long. I told her quite sweet/sadly, "You live with it then." Will post a few pix over the weekend.
*** Had dinner with the Aquarian cuz-cuz and threatened to buy her a vintage bracelet off etsy for to wear at the wedding. We went to BBQ King but they disappointed us greatly when the salted fish and chicken rice turned out to be a rather bland Anglicised version and not the really salted dried little shreds of fish and the ... what were those, soy beans? Next time, Spicy Sichuan. *nods*
*** Work emergency this morning meant I got to the city, then had to rush over to the office, cab it home, cab it to court, hang around for a break, then be bored witless to four thirty. Thank christ I had the Bosworth bio. And the new Meredith Duran just in case.
*** So. Many. Books! But I'm getting back into it. Was quite pleasant yesterday to be able to start and finish a book in one day. The new Loretta Chase, Silk Is For Seduction. I'll post a review over the weekend. And I've decided the way to deal with this new lifestyle that leaves me very little reading time during the work week is to use my weekends purely for that. Like the Aunt frequently does. Just lie on my bed and read the Whole Damned Day. Because I can.
*** The novel. Is making me want to cry and slam my head into a wall. And pretend it doesn't exist at all. Plausible deniability. Trust no one. I want to believe. Her name is Bambi?!
To bed. Thataway.