Then went and started Halfway to Paradise 2, which is no kind of distraction. Just not my fave Ima series, and the hero gives me hives with his greasy long hair and his sunglasses and his exuberant seme puppyishness. Le sigh. (So read that Silk Roads one of hers you bought in the summer, twit.)
Have started taking my contact lenses out early and reading manga the rest of the evening. Winter dry eye and cataract mean the lenses are a constant frustration for close work. And it's just so *easy* without them. Probably a good thing, because after Feb 1 I'll be in glasses anyway.
The incredibly long first week in January is over. It's incredibly long because it generally comprises several seasons and the occasional holiday. Not the latter this year, because though the world took January 3 off for New Year, the schools were back (two weeks always, from weekend to weekend whenever possible, whatever the rest of the world does) and so were we. But a week ago it was 10C/ 50F and pissing rain in best April fashion, next day was a good dry November Sunday, Tuesday was winter in the morning and me on foot in the snow but dry in the afternoon and me on the bike, Thursday was dry November in the morning and me on the bike but blowy winter in the afternoon and me slogging through the slush, and today it's -5C/ 22F with an unforecasted six inches plus of blowing snow. Have been out with shovel and ice chopper for my first shovelling workout of the season, because previous snowfalls could be swept away with a broom.
But end of year is long anyway. New Year's eve, listening to the rain, I was thinking 2010 had some good moments, like the terracotta warriors exhibit. I got quite nostalgic about that-- so long ago and far away-- like ahh the day before yesterday? No, that was just a fast revisit. The *first* time-- two weeks ago.
And I have fond memories of a morning in late October just back from New York, reading O'Brian on the terrace of the local coffee shop, Stephen cheerfully contracting frostbite in the mountains of Peru. When I'm inclined to mope I think about how much worse Stephen has it and how blase he is about real disasters; and, like me, how grumpy about minor inconveniences, like not being able to look for puffins when he wants to.