No fiddling.
Monday the 6th was not terrbly productive, because of two things: firstly I was hungry all day, despite eating more than my target and not doing any exercise. Everything went down the hatch, but nothing sated me. Boo. Grumble (said my belly).
But even more of a problem was the urge to run away and hide. Unfortunately, when you’re at home there’s nowhere to run away to, so I couldn’t. I could hide upstairs, at least – my bedroom’s at the back of the house – but the kitchen is at the front, and I’ve no fence around my front garden to hide me from view. Not allowed one, y’see, or I’d have something solid and at least six feet tall.
The cause was the snow. Uncharacteristically, it hadn’t melted, so the pavement in front of my house was becoming a stomped-down slippery mess of ice. I knew that anyone that saw or had cause to walk on it (despite the expanse of snow-covered grass available) would be mentally glaring and berating me for not having cleared it, unlike my dutiful neighbours. So I didn’t want to go anywhere they might see me. I don’t really like living near people.
Still, I finished Whiteout, and it was pretty good. I’m not at all sure the final “one year later” chapter was necessary, but I suppose some people like having everything wrapped up in a nice And They (Almost) All Lived Happily Ever After way. It would’ve worked fine if it simply hadn’t been there, and would’ve wound up a bit less saccharine.
And I also managed a bit of escapism in Skyrim. Enchanting is one of the skills I was working on, and it works by using souls stolen from the creatures you kill to power your magical trinkets. Which is nice. As I was wandering around, I spied some manner of beastie in the distance, and a properly necromantic thought popped through my head:
“Ooh! I wonder what kind of soul it has?”
Talking to yourself 
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