I don’t think I’d want to read any book by an author that was just like me, “only prettier.” That sounds like a losing proposition, all the way around.
It’s 48° and windy, and a bit on the hazy side, so I don’t think I’ll be going out. I could write a letter or two. I transferred the contents of the top drawer in the file into a plastic file box, but I’ll have to go through it, since this is January, and weed out everything from January 1 to June 30, and then I can sort through the other files I have.
I’ve decided I hate having things in so many places, and have been toying with the idea of a longer makeshift desk using two files and a door, or something close to it, like two planks, and a small bookcase. It would solve several problems at the same time, but I’ll still need to think about it.
I cried for an hour. Now my nose feels like a large shoe, but I’m emotionally restabilized.
I wouldn’t do any new furniture things when you’re planning to move!