My mom and I realized last night that we'd missed Rolling Thunder during our DC excursion yesterday. Not an entirely tragic occurrence, but the spectacle does generally amuse me.
In other news, I have been temporarily exiled from the lovely little hovel I have cultivated in my house by none other than a burn out light bulb. "But Bluestocking," you say, "it's the middle of the day. Natural light!" To which I will reply that it is not the middle of the day. It is the morning as I write this, and the fact that I am awake and even remotely functional before noon is a feat within itself, but that is not the point. The point, dear readers, is that this beloved hovel of mine has black-out shades on the windows. Quite a genius invention, really. Unfortunate in my case, however, since the cord to said shades is broken and thus I languish in darkness save for the glow of the tv and my computer screen. And so, I have relocated to the living room and have commandeered the couch. My stuff may soon spill out onto the floor, making things slightly more difficult, but we shall cross that bridge when we come to it.
Alas, I miss my hovel.
And now on to getting shit done. I have deemed today my 'Get Shit Done Day' and hope to accomplish at least something.
...I may just end up reading more of Outlander or finishing The Man in the Iron Mask. Speaking of which, I am currently quite displeased with Alexandre Dumas. I will not elaborate so as not to give anything away to those who haven't read it (it really is phenomenal, I highly recommend it, even in my current state of displeasure).
Right. Back to getting shit done. Or, more precisely, beginning to get shit done. I shall sally forth and all that jazz.
14 hours ago