It’s not even December yet, but my poor, sad little herbs are covered in snow. Actually, it’ll probably do them good.
I’ve reacted to the snow by deciding that fashion be damned, I can wear a good dress over manky jeans to keep my thighs warm if I want to. J has reacted to the snow by rushing to the window and taking photos at every available opportunity, which at least means I can show the internet how much snow has happened:
Sadly, my squirrel-like approach to food storing hasn’t been nearly so effective this year, which means I’ll have to go hunting and gathering later. Right now though, I’m trying and failing to get some work done on my assignments. Mainly I’m sitting watching the snow fall.
Flatmate keeps wanting attention from me. I keep refusing to give him any, partly because I’m a meancruelevil person, and partly because even if he tells me about how he couldn’t find the motivation to get out of bed this morning another five million times, there is nothing I can do about that. I don’t think it’s indicative of a particularly healthy outlook on life, and I’d much rather that he felt better, but I still can’t actually help. I’m not even bothering to suggest things that might help, because you know what? He knows that things exist that might help. Probably, deep down, he knows that I’m not one of those things.