Because things have been intense around here.
My hair’s Gone Dark (like the horizons of human enlightenment). I was blond two years ago, and a redhead the year before, and now I’m a brunette. I must say, I like this metamorphosis of mine the best. Dark hair + pale skin + blue eyes = I feel glamorous enough to step out of the house with no rouge on, because my face glows all on its own.
I have decided that I am one of those unoriginal women with a thing for Erast Fandorin. The fact that my previous literary obsession was Sherlock Holmes says a lot about my tastes – although I have to say, Fandorin shows an overall improvement in my emotional health. There is something a whole lot more available about Fandorin, for one thing.
Speaking of literature – why is it that it’s not OK to admit in polite company that you think Chekhov was more than just a genius, he was also a bit of a darrrling as far as looks went? Academics have had a field-day with Chekhov’s personal life, they owe him that much.
Meanwhile, I hate, hate, hate being away from people I love. Life is far too short for this, really (and even before it runs out, arthritis and dementia set in, and what is there left to do?).