I’m shipping out to cooler weather next week and I can’t wait to escape this infernal heat.
I know, I know. I should be used to it by now, but I am SO not. We (read: me) insisted on not only grilling out on July 4, but also eating the meal outside. We made it, but immediately came inside and spent the rest of the day sprawled out on the couch exhausted. I think we’re just built for cooler climes (which is why we want to retire NOT in Texas).
I watched an episode of Charlie Rose last night that featured E.L. Doctorow, who we lost this week. I’m embarrassed to admit I haven’t read any of his works (because I have a degree in English, I should certainly know his cannon), but I hung on every word he said. He’s genius. So I downloaded Ragtime last night and I’ll be treating myself to that, followed up by Virginia Woolf’s, Mrs. Dalloway, which I feel like I’ve read before, but since I can’t recall, will be a possible deja vu treat. He said he’s read it 10 times and that it’s amazing every time.
An English degree, with a Creative Writing emphasis, who felt the need to write a 34-word sentence.
(Get it together, Terry.)
I checked out a coworking space down the road called the Chicon Collective. It’s got a really cool vibe and I hope to join up officially come September.
It’s the first time I’ve stepped in an office environment in more than three years, so it felt like the first day of school, complete with new supplies (I hit up the back-to-school aisle at Target) and jitters. BUT I made some pretty good headway into my double deadline, which, if you haven’t already guessed, I am blogging en lieu of finishing up. Professional procrastinator, at your service.