On New Year’s Eve, thanks to regular reader, Marrije, I was surrounded by palm trees. Okay, just the one palm tree. A palm tree that required a certain amount of assemblage:
before it was fully grown:
How can it be cold when there’s a palm tree in the house?
It’s now minus six. Or twenty-one in that crazy Fahrenheit talk.
I think I’m going to have to learn Fahrenheit cause 31 sounds lovely to me while -1 makes me want to cry.
I have not been outside today. Partly due to the dread evil deadlines and partly because it’s -1 out there! Bits of me could freeze and fall off!
How am I going to make it to the end of January?
What is wrong with this benighted country? It’s snowing! It’s April. Spring in this poxy hemisphere. It’s warmer back home in Sydney where it’s Autumn. I hates it! Snow!!! Aaaargghh!!!!!!
In other news John Green is silly with his friends over here. I knew they didn’t get any actual writing done when they got together. Now there’s proof.
I’m interviewed by E. Lockhart and reveal that I cannot write song lyrics.
And, um, it’s still snowing. I’m going back to bed. Wake me when the snow’s gone.