I enjoy summer. As a general rule, I do not enjoy winter. I really, seriously dislike being cold. Spring is enjoyable mostly in that it means summer is coming, and fall is generally not too bad in that it's not too cold yet, and the leaves are pretty and when you first break out the cool-weather clothes, your body isn't used to being covered in sweaters and heavy corduroys and is actually warm. (Then you adjust, just in time for the weather to turn truly frigid, and pretty much everything after mid-December is just miserable.)

It is October 28th here; on the waning side of fall, but still firmly within the realm of autumn, and not winter.

So somebody please explain to me why in the heck we had four inches of snow yesterday.



There was a wolf spider in my work yesterday, which I had to put outside. I felt really bad. I dug it a little hole down into the mulch where hopefully the heat of decomposition will keep it non-frozen, but still, poor spider.

Today I am finishing up sewing clasps on my winter coat (which I would have liked to have had yesterday, though at least I wore the old one, and not my fall jacket), doing re-writes on the first novel, and waiting to find out if I'm going to be going in to work this afternoon. I'm supposed to be filling in for a coworker, but as of last night, the appointment schedule looked so sparse that they may decide they don't need me.

Re-writes are a little unnerving; I think I am improving the book (it has vampires who actually exist, in a not-tacked-on-as-an-afterthought sort of way, now), but my wordcount has jumped significantly. It's not yet over 100k, but it's nearing it. 100k is generally the upper end of what's acceptable for genre fiction, unless the genre is sword-and-sorcery type high fantasy, which this isn't. (Though it does contain both a sword and an individual capable of magic.) I suppose once I get done adding in stuff that should have been there, I'll have to go back and see if there's anything that shouldn't be there.