I realized the other day that this was going to happen with the time rolling back an hour: On Tuesday afternoon, the sun set. I was not going to see the sun again until Sunday morning.
Think about that.
Damn. I’m kind of bummed just thinking about it, and I’m not one of those that really feels like they need sun — I love rain — winter doesn’t get me down, but oh, boy. That’s something. Tuesday afternoon to Sunday morning. I get to work at 6am, before dawn, and leave at 6pm, after dark. We have one small round porthole in our concrete bunker, but because of issues with glare on computer screens, we have the blinds closed all the time.
We don’t take breaks, don’t have the staffing (but that means I get to screw around on the computer and knit and write and all sorts of good stuff when it’s slow), but I might start trying to go outside at least once a day for a couple of minutes. I’m kind of weirded out by this. I’ve never worked this kind of shift at this time of year — usually I’ve worked midnight shifts where you get plenty of daylight in the afternoon/early evening hours before you go to work.
Also: Nanowrimo is kicking my ass. I managed only 875 words today, and I’m quitting while I’m ahead. I assume I’ll bounce back, and my word count is solid, so I’m okay, but yipes.
I would like a nap.
This, however, cheers me up:
Miss Idaho is happy dog
and this is happy, too:
She’s so small she looks like one of those bobbleheaded things.
We will not talk about Lala’s cowboy hat that Clara ate all but the brim of this morning. That is not happy talk. No, it is not. Very bad dog. If Lala felt anything like I felt after finding the cashmere massacre, I feel very badly for her indeed. (Yes, Clara’s getting daily hikes, and training, and kongs. Just damn naughty. Grrr.)