I hope you’ll forgive my absenteeism, as I’ve been extraordinarily busy lately. Between trying to finish my research project at work, spending upwards of six hours at a stretch tinkering with the Linux kernel in the basement of Sieg II, and finding time to eat, I haven’t had much free time. Of course, what little I did have I squandered. Like usual.
Nathan’s been gone a lot as well, and so the apartment is in shambles. I have it on good authority that the pile of dirty dishes in our sink is the world’s third largest; I’ve taken to calling it “Mt. Slovenly”, and you can call my home number any time next week to schedule a tour (group rates available for ten or more).
I actually don’t even have time to write this, as Bryan should be arriving shortly and hauling me off to Vancouver through Monday for some snowboarding. Well – I say snowboarding, but I really mean “strapping a board to my feet and then falling on my ass over and over and over again until it gets dark.” I’ve never been before – a source of deep, deep personal shame – so it will be interesting if not particularly enjoyable for me. Marta, Michele, and Bryan’s little sister are coming as well, and they all could snowboard circles around me were it not for the linear, downhill nature of the sport. Expect to hear more than you really want to about the weekend upon its conclusion.
Meanwhile I have an article to write and two hundred pages of Emma to read by the time I get back to Seattle. It’s possible in theory, but all kinds of things are possible in theory (time travel, inverse heat transfer, Rosie O’Donnell losing weight) that rarely happen in practice.
I suppose I’d better start packing. Remind me to bring a spare pair of socks.
The Player of Games (Culture, #2)
Consider Phlebas (Culture, #1)
A Confederacy of Dunces
The Handmaid’s Tale
Middlesex
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