Even with the advantages bestowed by Caitlín Standard Time (an extra hour of daylight over those who "fall back"), I've been getting far too little day, what with the onset of winter. This is what happens when you move from the western edge of the Eastern Time Zone (EST/EDT) to a place a lot nearer the western border of Newfoundland Standard/Atlantic. For example, in Atlanta today, on CaST, sunset will come at 6:36 p.m., while it comes at 5:26 p.m. here in Providence (and I don't even want to think about it coming at 4:26 for all those on EST). So, I have resolved to begin rising at 8 a.m., to steal back some daylight. But I'm doing it stepwise, starting today, when I got up at 9. a.m. Tomorrow, I'll do 8 a.m. Of course, this means getting to bed by 12:30 a.m. or so, a very radical change.
All in the name of increased productivity and better mental health.
No writing yesterday. More dithering over "The Colliers' Venus (1893)," the whys and hows of the trouble I'm having with the piece, and, finally, so that the day would not be another loss, we read through chapters Four and Five of The Red Tree (ms. pp. 138-232), plus the first section of "The Colliers' Venus (1893)." It's a comfort, how pleased I am with The Red Tree, especially given how much trouble I'm presently having with this short story. Oh, and there was a very last minute formatting problem with A is for Alien (specifically, with "Zero Summer") that had to be resolved yesterday.
So, workwise, Wednesday was a proofreading day.
The "big news" yesterday was that our clunker of a car, a '93 Ford Escort rust bucket, which has over 90,000 miles on it, has finally given up the ghost. Spooky took it in to a mechanic in Wakefield to finally have the windshield wipers fixed, and when she called to see if it was done, we discovered that the thing is pretty much falling apart. It would cost $900, rock bottom, just to get it up and running again, and that's not to get it up and running well. So, we're sending it away to the automotive underworld. It's been a good car, and has, for example, made the the trip from New England to Birmingham/Atlanta and back again four times since 1999. It went as far south as St. Augustine, FL, and as far north as Cape Anne, MA. Anyway, the wheels are, literally, ready to fall off the poor thing. The woman at the garage was horrified that we were still driving it, and somewhat amazed that we'd not perished in a crash. So, yeah, new car time. Well, new used car time. Today, Spooky will be driving the Escort (only four miles, on back roads) to her parents' place in Saunderstown, where it will await the junkyard and Edsel, the goddess of obsolete cars.
Wow. 10:59 a.m., and I'm almost done with this entry. Booya!
Yesterday, I began reading Joan Druett's She Captains: Heroines and Hellions of the Sea (2000), and also read "A juvenile skull of the primitive ornithischian dinosaur Heterodontosaurus tucki from the 'Stromberg' of South Africa" (from the September 2008 Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology).
Last night, we watched Tom DiCillo's Delirious (2006), which I found a bit uneven. I very much enjoyed the first forty minutes or so, but then it felt like the film sort of lost track of itself and wandered away into another sort of story altogether. But Steve Buscemi never fails to make me smile. And the Elvis Costello cameo was nice.
Platypus says enough with "that newfangled bloggity thing," so I guess that's my cue.