I have no good reason for going silent: I have not been traveling, nor having too much fun, nor writing an MLA paper or anything else.  At the same time, there are no huge unbloggable issues, no illness or trauma to me or anyone else close to me, no big changes.  Just ordinary life and not having much to say.

I think the winter blahs have set in.  They held off a long time this year, since the weather was unusually warm and sunny, but now we’ve had about ten days of mostly gray skies with regular snow showers (but not much accumulation).  It feels like we’re suspended, waiting for the big storm, or for the clouds to roll away, but neither happens.  Just a few more flakes.

So I’ve been holed up reading my Christmas presents (the latest Harry Dresden, the latest in the Vorkosigan saga) and a huge pile of Hamish Macbeth mysteries from the library, which I saved up for this year’s winter break after I finished all the Agatha Raisins.  They are entertaining, although mostly they make me very grateful that I do not live in a tiny Highland village.  I guess that means they’re doing their work of getting me through the holiday season without serious depression.

The light box and space heater help, too, of course.  Maybe I should just call this time of year Iguana Season.  Even though the days are getting lighter, it’s hard to get excited about 20 more seconds of daylight, especially when it’s so cloudy that Glendower lets me sleep past 7:00.  But if I think of myself as an iguana, then any time I rouse myself to mammalian activities, I can think I’ve accomplished something.

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