It was a little warmer today, in that I didn’t necessarily feel like the Earth was actively trying to kill me with cold. Even the lows today were actually in the (low) double digits, and it could even get back up into the fifties by the weekend. (By which of course I mean lots of poodle skirts, malt shops, and Arthur Fonzarelli. Weather is weird.)
Anyway, it was otherwise a pretty ordinary day. I realized, midway through the afternoon when I reached up to scratch the back of my neck, that I’d been wearing my sweater inside-out all day. I was naturally nervous about reaching down to scratch my knee later on. I spent the rest of the day pulling together a report, though unfortunately only the one that really needs to get done, not the report that really really needs to get done. That second report is longer, and I’m still waiting on a couple of reviewers to disappoint me by failing to deliver their reviews despite promising to do so.
Oh, and I wrote this, which by several metrics is the most popular thing I’ve ever written on Twitter:
Twitter says David Bowie was "born" today, rather than escaped through a rift in the space-time continuum from his future planet. Riiiiight.
— Fred Coppersmith (@unrealfred) January 8, 2014
I was also going to wish “Elvish” a happy birthday, but I couldn’t figure out the right runes for “Love Me Tender.”