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I am in the most exquisite of moods: today was the first truly autumnal day of the year. The temperature is in the mid-fifties, the skies have been a proper October grey, and I've been practically dancing through life ever since I woke up. Even better: one of my neighbors has been keeping a hearth going since morning, and the scent of wood smoke is wafting into my bedroom where I'm typing this (yes, of course the windows are open). Tomorrow, I'll rescue a turtleneck from the cedar chest and slip it on, so I can feel like I'm being hugged for hours on end. Gods, how I've needed this...
The biggest side effect of autumn dropping in is that my creative urges go kazango. As I result, I've been cleaning and rearranging my room (!!!), hauling more of my personal effects upstairs, now that I've moved back into the bedroom-proper and out of the ex-porch (which I'll miss, it must be said). I still need bookcases, and stuff to hang on the walls, and whatever else the room needs. I think I might go a bit bonkers over this, because I've never simultaneously had (a) a room of my own to decorate and furnish, and (b) the resources to actually do so. Unfortunately, I can already tell I'm going to Hildie the snot out of this place.
The other creative urge that struck hard was my Need to Cook. Around 2:45 this afternoon, I was skulking around the kitchen like a chocolate addict at a salad bar, trying to find something, anything I could whip up that wasn't Prepacked Easy-Fixin'stm, and failing. Worse, I had to go back to work in less than two hours. Basically, I was nursing an Osso Buco Mind in the midst of Macaroni and Cheese Purgatory. Not pretty. In the end, I punted: I mixed up a batch of tuna salad, which I corrupted with a healthy dollop of sambal aioli. Close enough. (And for the record, wicked-good.)
*sigh* I am buying flannel sheets, dammit. (EDIT: Actually, since I just put on Kristi's Egyptian-cotton-with-a-killer-thread-count sheets this afternoon, I really ought not complain.)
The biggest side effect of autumn dropping in is that my creative urges go kazango. As I result, I've been cleaning and rearranging my room (!!!), hauling more of my personal effects upstairs, now that I've moved back into the bedroom-proper and out of the ex-porch (which I'll miss, it must be said). I still need bookcases, and stuff to hang on the walls, and whatever else the room needs. I think I might go a bit bonkers over this, because I've never simultaneously had (a) a room of my own to decorate and furnish, and (b) the resources to actually do so. Unfortunately, I can already tell I'm going to Hildie the snot out of this place.
The other creative urge that struck hard was my Need to Cook. Around 2:45 this afternoon, I was skulking around the kitchen like a chocolate addict at a salad bar, trying to find something, anything I could whip up that wasn't Prepacked Easy-Fixin'stm, and failing. Worse, I had to go back to work in less than two hours. Basically, I was nursing an Osso Buco Mind in the midst of Macaroni and Cheese Purgatory. Not pretty. In the end, I punted: I mixed up a batch of tuna salad, which I corrupted with a healthy dollop of sambal aioli. Close enough. (And for the record, wicked-good.)
*sigh* I am buying flannel sheets, dammit. (EDIT: Actually, since I just put on Kristi's Egyptian-cotton-with-a-killer-thread-count sheets this afternoon, I really ought not complain.)
