The microwave is broken. Really broken. Not just the turntable doesn’t turn, like last time; things apparently crackled and popped and there’s no clock and no microwaving power at all. We have returned to the dark ages, also known as the 80s.
I found a name for the female lead for a story that’s been bouncing around in my head for a while. That’s always nice.
We might very well turn into Those People who buy winter outerwear for our dog. This after a short snowshoeing escapade on Saturday, after which poor Shiloh was shivering so badly that we think we need something that is at least windproof for her. Funny, because it looks like she’s got a nice thick undercoat. We’ll wait until she’s full-grown for anything like that, though. And no, I will not be buying fashion sweaters for her. Good grief.
Not particularly looking forward to my doctor’s appointment tomorrow, but the combination of ignoring it and reminding myself (when I do think about it) that it’s for my own good seems to be working okay.
I’m rather cold.
Finally catching up with my reading journals. Clicky clicky the link above if you’re interested. More will be coming tomorrow, too.