Why am I so tired? Six o’clock is a fairly normal time to wake up, a bit early, but nothing terrible. Especially since I spent a couple of hours lying on the couch watching Heroes, which should have rested me up through the equivalent of eight o’clock at least.
Who spells out “o’clock” anymore?
Apparently I do.
I’m annoyed that hardback books cost so much, even on Amazon. I want to buy A Red Herring with Mustard or whatever Flavia de Luce #3 is called, but it costs too much. I even checked whether the public library had it, which would have required me to get a card. But all three copies are checked out, and there are two holds on the most newly returned ones.
Someone buy it for me!
I want Flavia Three rawr!
And you thought I was a serious person who conscientiously maintained a five-foot radius of personal dignity. Hah.
So tired. And it’s not even nine yet. Can I go to bed before nine and still be an adult?
No, I didn’t think so.
I know! I’ll start reading a new novel. But what to choose? Red Mars by Kim Stanley Robinson? Ringworld by Larry Niven? Monstrous Regiment by Terry Pratchett? The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury? Or (for a wildcard) Possession by A. S. Byatt?
Making important decisions like this are far too hard.
Instead, good night.
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