I'll try to post about something other than the weather and other people's writing soon, but god, it's freezing cold. A few weeks ago I took out the detachable cuddly lining of my beloved parka, turning my parka into a plain ole khaki army jacket a la Lindsay Weir. And today I will have to attach it right back before I go out, as right now I am shivering with cold despite the fact that I am (a) wearing a jumper and (b) inside my well-insulated house. I just gave in and turned the heating on. I never want to leave the house, but I'll have to go round to the shop soon because I ran out of milk this morning. And I'll have to go in to my tap class this evening. I've written before about the power of tapping to revive me when I wasn't in the mood for going into town, but I don't know if even executing a perfect Suzy Q step could compensate for having to wade through freezing puddles in the middle of May.

On the plus side, I got Laurie R. King's Locked Rooms yesterday, so I've got something entertaining to read. And I'm knitting this, only in wool that's actually nice. But while both of these things are entertaining, reading detective novels and knitting woolly things are meant to be winter amusements! This is all wrong.