Sunday, November 14, 2010

Do you read Kate Atkinson books? You should. I spent much of today reading When Will There Be Good News?, one of her "mystery" books, in its entirety. I say "mystery" with quotes because the ones (of hers) that I've read aren't your standard page-turning whodunits--more just novels that happen to have crime and intrigue and coincidence at their center. I also really liked Behind the Scenes at the Museum, which is not a mystery at all, but a fractured family history kind of book. I will say that Atkinson seems to have a thing for lost girls, as does Jackson Brodie, the detective who skips in and out of the mystery books. But the books manage not to feel same-y. They are also full of aggressively British cultural references that I feel all inside-scoop about knowing, as well as great descriptive language, e.g., a hippie-ish therapist "who looked as if she'd knitted herself," or "she liked the way he walked, like a bear wearing a nappy."

I had a crap night of sleep, the one I always have after I've worked hard on something important and before I need to get up at a specific time in the morning (7:15 for two church services). I can never relax enough on these occasions to get deep and dreamless, plus the cat was wedged between my knees and I couldn't get comfortable (but heaven forbid I disturb him). I was rewarded for my crap night of sleep with a massive spasm in my left trapezius, which spasm unfolded in slow motion as I was standing in the shower. The muscle currently feels like it is made out of coiled springs and knotted rope (and pain). My trapezius is actually pulling on my clavicle. It is a grody feeling that I will probably be stuck with for days.


My boss is going to be on vacation this week. Doesn't that seem like a great excuse to sit and do craft projects in my cubicle? If only I didn't have work to do.

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