24 degrees F in fact. The fact that I live on a very steep hill, thus making it impossible for me to go anywhere, is greatly lessening my love affair with snow and ice.
A blessing in disguise I suppose. I have a chest-high stack of books I've been making progress through. The last books I read were Camera Lucida by Barthes, Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome, and Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card. Mid-century semiotics to post WWII sci-fi.
I'm hoping to continue the eclecticness this weekend with The Book of Imaginary Beings by Borges and Franny and Zooey by Salinger.
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