Woke up to lots of snowy lovelieness this morning. Not enough for anyone to skive off college/work, but still. Above is one of the fields where I walk Molly-dog, and here she is in the woods having a marvellous time. She loves snow.
I came back, dusted Molly off, stamped my feet on the mat, made myself some hot chocolate and thought, right...back to normal, time to get on with some writing. The house is nice and quiet.
It's not even untidy if you close your eyes and feel your way round the walls, and the wash-pile isn't too high. Unless you're five-foot two. Which I am. And there's plenty of food in the house - at least there was the last time I looked. Even the floors look clean, providing the lights stay off and the sun doesn't come out unexpectedly...oh dear. I knew this would happen.
I have sent out two short stories out and started writing another though.
Does that count??
