I realised about 3 p.m. that I had eaten very little but coffee and pastries all day. This came to my attention because I could no longer think and had begun to seriously doubt my ability to draw a straight line. Now, having eaten, I feel strangely over-full and ready for a long hibernation that involves the ineffable music of snoring and the harmonious joy of my radiator.
But the day was not bad at all. The 3 or 4 hours of morning classes were a complete bear and usually are, but I think that will change soon. Especially when I start sleeping on Sunday nights.
Life is strange, right now.
Valentine's Day (otherwise known as Singles Awareness Day and also Bad Poetry Day) will be fun; I'm planning to buy myself a novel or a movie and eat take-out from Wagamama, and also wear stripey socks. Joe once gave me a bouquet of lollipops for Valentine's Day. He would be pleased that he made me think of morose things on a commercial holiday, of course, but I miss him.
There are fifteen minutes until my cafe closes and I get to go back to the college to make myself a cup of tea, pour things into travel mugs and thermoses, and head to the 1937 Room to read everything that was ever written. Ever.