Tired now

I always forget until it gets to this point, but once my hair grows past my shoulder blades? Time to chop it off again. I simply can't put it up in a bun anymore (my standard default hair-style for work) because when I do? Headaches. Bleah.

Space defined by cardboard

Exactly 500 books catalogued. 10 boxes. That's all the paperbacks sf up to McCaffrey, minus a couple dozen (uncatalogued as yet) that I simply can't put away just yet. The Bujold and the Brin, the Pratchett will all stay out as well. I've got 1/2 a bag of duplicates and 'wtf, why did I pick that up again?' so far. I'll probably get more picky about keeping things once I hit the non-fiction... the 'it's research! For fiction!' only holds up when I'm actually writing. Or I could just break down and admit that I'm a whore for useless bits of information. I'm the gal you want around after the apocalypse, because I'll have all the how-to manuals you need to survive.