What a difference a non-migraine day makes. I've polished off a short short story to workshop at the WD meeting today, baked two items for aforesaid meeting, done a load of laundry and hung it on the line, with a second one underway, and all by 8.15am. Plus showered and had breakfast, cleaned off the accumulated dust on the fan above the shower. You get the picture.
Later today, I'm going to the library to pick up Obama's book, Tales from my Father. I reserved it months ago, and have heard tantalising snippets on the Book Show. So I'm looking forward to it. I now have 2 good books to read, that and Tim Winton's Breath, that Maxine has lent me. He is my favourite Australian author. But I have a little matter of finishing off Minette Walters' The Ice House first.
I've been reading crime fiction with a view to maybe writing it one day. She is the least offensive so far, can actually write. I'd proabably be more interested in wiritng true crime, something I watch on Cable TV rather frequently. I just about know all the renowned (not the right word is it) serial killers, most of the US and UK ones with an occasional Russian, Pakistani and Indian thrown in. Interesting sociologically and psychologically I find. But maybe there's some psychological need in me to watch these things!!!!! I comfort myself by remembering that I'm not alone in this interest although I would not want to write to one of them or marry one, like many women do.
Time to get ready for the meeting.
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