Not dead yet.
Overclimbed. New 6As, Monday and Tuesday: I am a competent enough 6A climber, now, even if 6A+s remain mostly beyond me, and I sometimes need a rest. I can also lead 5s with confidence, as long as I get to rest up in the middle: I had a fabulous time leading my lovely grey 5, with the straightforwardly overhung finish, yesterday - I felt really strong and confident, even though it was the last climb of the night. And even though I had to rest three or four times. Eight routes last night, even if I fell off halfway up the 6A+, the 6B, and the 6C I tried. Well, not quite halfway up.
My arms, though. I am still getting twingey pains in the forearm muscles, and this is after the application of Deep Freeze and one paracetamol last night and two just now. Owie. No more climbing for me til Friday at least.
Overessayed. I am turning in an essay tomorrow that is supposed to be less than 3.5K words and turned out to be 4.3K, and which I thought I had finished last week, but no. Akshual Analysis needed to be added. On Friday and Saturday I must interpret the theology of Romans 11 for an essay which I had intended to have finished last week.
P-Con on Saturday was an utter bust, with the exception of meeting desperance
very briefly and embarrassing myself in front of Charles Stross, who was an utter gentleman - as he was the last three times I brought him books to sign - and kindly refrained from making fun of me. I have nothing against persons older than me, even if that's by decades. But when they come across as mostly bitter and, well, narrow
, I sort of have the feeling I'm in the wrong crowd.
Maybe I was just tired.
Between Monday and today and the siren song of the bookshop, I have blown my next two months' reading budget. I can't help it. They twitch their little covers at me and I lose all self-control.
(The US editions of Tamora Pierce's "Circle of Magic" books, since the UK ones are out of print, and a couple - three - others. No self-control. None.)