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Wednesday, 25 July 2007 17:57
1. Word count so far today: 615. Which is not bad, since I had to sort out teaching stuff (and why do I have to sort out teaching stuff in July? Why, universe? This is a bad time to ask for teaching-related admin work, unless the university wants me to sort out credit allocations via a random number generator, which I might just do), but not exactly great. Still, the day is young.

2. In other news, the dog is being such a teenager, and keeps sighing loudly because she is Inside and How Could We Do This To Her. (She's just turned two, so I suppose this kind of attitude is only to be expected.) To illustrate:

sulky

See? Complete dog bershon.

3. Thank you, Internet, for making distraction material thin on the ground today. I even went over to [community profile] christianity to see if I could bear joining yet (my test for this is that I won't join until I can make it down a whole page of comments without wanting to yell at somebody), and didn't last more than five minutes. I have, however, learnt about eight new ways to say "Fuck off, heretic" in a sweetly passive-aggressive way, which I'm sure will prove useful. Rumour has it there was a time when that community was not Where Theology Goes To Die. I remain sceptical.
It took six hours and made me feel like Hercules cleaning out the Augean Stables (except Hercules didn't have to deal with seven layers of yeah-I'll-iron-that-soon skirts and Odd Sock Battalion 14 ambushing him by the desk), but my bedroom is tidy, and now I can work in it without feeling all oogy about the mess.

By 'work', I mean 'take pictures'.

Necklaces )
Kept on the coat-hooks on my door in a (hopeless) attempt to stop them tangling into one big glittery lump. Most of these are from charity shops, because most interesting (and, well, affordable) jewellery is second-hand.

Bookshelf )
The bookshelf nearest to my bed, which is a fair representative sample of things I read when I can't sleep. Those are book tokens wedged in between the Stephen King and Terry Pratchett, left there to remind me every time I look up from my desk that there will be no more new books until this chapter is finished.

My favourite poem from the anthology, by Andrei Voznesensky:

Why do lampreys swim from Riga back
To Canadian shores, the land of their ancestors?
Why rename streets?
Build new ones, with new names.

People once lived in them, and each was wonderful.
What if they come, remembering the Neva?
I will never forget you.
Or, rather, temporarily, as long as I live.


Work )
There are footnotes, and then there are footnotes. The introduction to my latest chapter is about 60% footnote, measured by word, and this page is responsible for most of it. (The adverb at the beginning of footnote 4 really needs to go, though. Ick.)

My bathroom is also clean, but there's no caption for clean bathroom photos other than 'Not only have I not finished my chapter, I'd rather scrub the black mould off the skirting boards on my hands and knees than go back to it.'

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