As of today, all Christmas presents are bought and sent, and the ones that aren't sent are ready to be wrapped. I still think they are lame - this year I just didn't have any inspiration. That's when I get to the point of "Christmas shopping sucks anyway", and all the things that seemed interesting are just "stuff" that you drag home. Better save the money. I'm just not getting excited about "stuff" anymore.
Maybe books - but I have piles of books that I might never find the time to read. There's a more adult version of gifts creeping in, too. Useful stuff. Household stuff. Gifts like mixers and new toasters and such.
On a positive note, my tax return has arrived - the tax I have to pay on my creative writing endeavours amounts to pocket money. Next year will be "worse". I better rack up some serious expenses to put against that.
I've written around 1,000 words on "Scorpion 2", which I'll call "Lying with Scorpions". I have no idea where things are going there, and it's moving very slowly, but at least I have written and might be able to write some more today.
Otherwise, I caught up with what felt like an enormous sleep deficit. I can't wait for the days to get longer again.
Leaving drinks was emotional. I'm always ill at ease during such social work get-togethers that involve alcohol. I managed to bow out due to the snow. There was a possibility that trains might not run if the snow got worse in Kent, so I made my escape. Tomorrow starts the last week on the job. Then about ten days of doing nothing (aka: writing), and then I'm off to the bank. And then I'll look into investing quite seriously.
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