Though we were promised sun today, the drizzle and gloom and cold lingers. Currently, it's 40˚F, windchill at 34˚F, misty, foggy, shitty.
No writing yesterday.
I did manage to finish Philip Pullman's The Amber Spyglass. And that was a herculean effort, sheer fucking force of will, stubborn determination, slogging through that wretched novel. I
(
Read more... )