As it turns out, I may have spoken a little early. I walked down to the National Gallery and about froze to death. Part of this was because it was warm the day before, so I wore a light jacket (and thought I was going to be late, so I didn't run back upstairs to get a heavier one). I also, stupidly, figured that once I was in the sun, everything would be ok.
What an idea.
Needless to say, I took the metro home even though taking the metro almost anywhere downtown makes me feel lazy when I have nowhere to be. And apparently there are to be snow flurries middle of this week? I'll be fine as long as it doesn't drop down to 15 degrees again. I also braved the freak cold front to run to the bookstore. I was looking for my book club's new book, but that one was not at the store. So...instead of saving money and not buying anything (what an idea) I ended buying The Agony and the Ecstasy, which is a biographical novel of Michelangelo. I can't remember the author, but I want to say I've heard of this book before.
Right now I'm reading a collection of Van Gogh's letters I picked up over the holidays when I saw a Van Gogh exhibition, so if I do not get my March book, I'll probably start reading about Michelangelo. I do see future book recommendations in the future.
This may be a somewhat meaningless post, except that I did call the freakish cold weather, but I read an interview with a writer recently and something she said really struck me. I intend to post my thoughts on this later this week, and I thought about it even more so yesterday as I had a friend reading my novel-now-short-story and asking about some of the relationships that made a lot of sense in the novel format, and there's just not enough space to explain it in a short story version. But as I said to him, I just...I don't want to change anything that made the characters those people. I like their relationships and how they interact...I can't change that.
But sometimes...you need to sacrifice for your art.
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