I could be in a better mood today, I could.
I’m not. To begin with my husband has shared his cold caught at comicon. This (probably) combined with working at the other house with paint fumes and such has caused my arms to erupt in an attack of eczema like none in years – for those who don’t know what that looks like, it looks like I have third degree burns all over my arms.
This morning over breakfast, I opened a medieval mystery which I bought because it was only 99c and to which the author (of a long running, traditionally published series) has thought it fit to append a ten page foreword going on and on and on about how there was “progressive” thought in the middle ages. (And she clearly thought “progressive” was an undiluted good thing, the exegesis towards which all our thought and feeling should…
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