Cheering the hell up, finally
Jul. 16th, 2005 04:40 pmWhile everyone else revels in HBP, I'm having a wholly unwarranted amount of fun this weekend browsing through the
ts_ficathons stories. Unwarranted, because I was never even slightly a Sentinel fan; but there are excellent writers participating, many of whom have been away from TS for a while, and in reading their stories, I keep getting a feeling of -- well, a sort of uncomplicated happiness, a nostalgic reunion with beloved characters and situations, and I'm taking vicarious pleasure in their enjoyment (and in the excellence of many of the stories).
And even though this weekend is even more ridiculously hot than the week preceding, I've finally decided to just quit bitching and relax about it. I spent the bulk of the day at a very wonderful nearby library, which has (in addition to books and air conditioning) a coffeeshop right in the same building, with free WiFi and ample plug-ins, and I camped out there with my laptop and headphones and reading material and had a good time. Now I'm back home in my 88-degree house, wearing as little clothing as humanly possible, sipping a glass of cheap white wine with icecubes in it, flipping between the Cubs game and the hurricane special on Nat'l Geographic, and cultivating positive mental attitude. The Voice of Depression (and its thuggish buddy, the Hitman of Anxiety Disorder) are still skulking on the horizon, but I'm giving 'em the stink-eye and kicking 'em to the curb. TO THE CURB!
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And even though this weekend is even more ridiculously hot than the week preceding, I've finally decided to just quit bitching and relax about it. I spent the bulk of the day at a very wonderful nearby library, which has (in addition to books and air conditioning) a coffeeshop right in the same building, with free WiFi and ample plug-ins, and I camped out there with my laptop and headphones and reading material and had a good time. Now I'm back home in my 88-degree house, wearing as little clothing as humanly possible, sipping a glass of cheap white wine with icecubes in it, flipping between the Cubs game and the hurricane special on Nat'l Geographic, and cultivating positive mental attitude. The Voice of Depression (and its thuggish buddy, the Hitman of Anxiety Disorder) are still skulking on the horizon, but I'm giving 'em the stink-eye and kicking 'em to the curb. TO THE CURB!