In Which Our Heroine Does Too Much and Revels in Colours
Ok, it is my blog and about me. But screw that. Far more important than I is the fact that today *millions* yes I said *millions* of people around the world came out today and demonstrated the strength of the anti-war movement. In London alone, THREE QUARTERS OF A MILLION people turned out to say chant for "tea, not war" to say not to send our troops into harms way over this issue; to let the inspectors do their jobs. And the press is covering it! I'm so thrilled! Peaceful demonstration. Freedom of speech. Can truly representative democracy be far behind? This is what America is based on. Ah, happiness. I dream of Bush standing down our troops.

I, on the other hand, have spent the day up to my eyeballs in projects. The e-commerce book. The Privacy Rules project. Some laundry (it actually happened), and spackle. I went utterly berserk with my big tub of spackle and just spackled every crack in the apartment, wherever it was, whatever room it is in. A spackle spectacular. The walls are covered with white patches, and I don't think I'll ever get the dust from the subsequent sanding of the spackle up off the floor. I feel positve. I have accomplished something. I am queen of spackle!

I feel exceptionally lucky of late. I have been leaving the library when I feel like it in the evenings, and it is though something in my stamina level is pegged to the colour of the sky, which is amazing as I work in a windowless room. But almost all week, I have bee leaving just as the sun starts to set, when you look to one side of the sky and it is a gorgeous shade of cerulean blue, and you look 180 degrees the other way, and it is the most gorgeous shade of bluey black. I nearly get whiplash looking from one side to the other. Who else would be made so happy merely by the colour of the sky? Who cares. I get that happy.

I celebrated Valentine's Day by having drinks arranged at the last minute. And then a few more as the evening got going. So today has not been productive as it could have been. Hangovers do that to one.
Love,
Anne