Bah.

Did you know that Robinson Crusoe has two halves? One, two? And that only one of them is the half where he lives on the desert island for a really long time?

Okay, officially in my brain I knew that there was more to Robinson Crusoe than the desert island bit, but you see I didn’t apply it to my LIFE because I believed that I would never need to. When my brain thought about that book it was more just one of those thoughts that slides painlessly into your brain and then painlessly out of it and never receives much notice. Occasionally I would focus on it enough to have fond memories of Swiss Family Robinson, but basically I never pondered it extensively and I never thought about having to read it.

And now I am reading it. For several hours today I have been reading it, taking breaks to watch episodes of Sex and the City in order to take the edge off. It is so amazingly boring that I can’t believe my eyes haven’t fallen out of my head. I read and I read and I read, and then suddenly the book came to an abrupt stop and then there was a blank page and then there was PART TWO. A whole other part that I now have to read!

I don’t know why this causes such deep despair in my soul. I knew that I was only halfway through the book because I could see the remainder of the pages stretching endlessly out before me; but there is something about it being Part Two, like the author is officially telling me I have only worked my miserable wretched way through half of this endless novel, that makes the idea of continuing this book completely unbearable.

But there was snow today! Real right proper snow that made the ground all white (I’ll post a picture later of the view from my window) and fell all down from the sky in flurries for a little while and packed together in lovely snowballs. I woke up this morning around nine-thirty and was mystified by the lack of snow; so I pulled the curtain expecting to see another dreary dreary rainy day — and instead there was snow everywhere! My brain ASPLODED with joy.

Unfortunately I had no one to play with. My flatmates are all very underwhelmed with the idea of snow because they have seen it many times before, and Steve had to work, so I had to play in the snow all by my wee forlorn self. I built a lil snowman and then decapitated him by throwing volleys of snowballs at him until his head just fell off. That was fun. I wanted to throw a snowball at a goose, but there were no gooses around and eventually I decided that wouldn’t be very nice anyway.

(The one time it snowed in Baton Rouge — it might even have been on Christmas Day because I remember my family all coming outside to go somewhere all together in the car — I threw a snowball at this nasty horrible cat that I hated. It was a totally vile cat and it used to come over to my house from its home across the street and beat up on my cat and eat up all of her food, and it was really not expecting to be hit with a snowball. It jumped and then fled in horror and there were still bits of snow on its fur, and I really enjoyed the whole thing.)