I didn't write today; after typing up fifteen pages of handwritten writing that I did yesterday, and not feeling quite right all day (not sure if I'm getting sick, or if it's allergies, or if it's some helpful hypochondria trying to keep me from writing), I didn't really feel like tackling the next scene.
So instead, I indulged in an orgy of research, which I could easily continue forever because I'm just that much of a dork. I'm reading this book on East India Company warehouse workers in London from 1800-1858, and it's all ridiculously interesting (to me, not to you). Beyond just learning about the East India Company's domestic operations, there are tons of fascinating tidbits that shine some light on broader social issues of the time, like how many people were employed, what they made, what the construction of massive warehouses in the City of London area did to the so-called neighborhood, what goods were being imported, etc. It's so good that I ended up resurrecting an old database that I'd started long ago and abandoned so that I could type up my notes from the book in a v. fluid, searchable format, since the book has to go back to Stanford library at some point. Resurrecting the database makes me want to read the dozens of half-read/unopened research books on my shelves, which I suppose is a good thing since any fiction I read these days seems to make me incredibly surly.
Now, though, I need to go to bed; I've got plans tomorrow, including a trip to the Apple Store to fix my laptop battery and other various and sundry errands, so I should get some sleep. Goodnight!
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