I feel fantastic. I think it must have been all the endorphin-promoting chillies in last night's chilli con carne (healthy, mind - made with low fat turkey mince). I watched a documentary about Tetris on BBC4 while eating it, that was so boring I fell asleep. It was far more about the intellectual ownership of the game than the addictive qualities it has. I have a Tetris brain - I love stacking things neatly, killing two birds with one stone, and fighting the tide of Things To Do. The house was far tidier when I went to bed last night than when I got home, which felt like a win. After the housework I rewarded myself with an hour of Marillion on DVD. This is the first time I have sat down alone in front of the telly this year.
I read the first couple of chapters of Hugh Walters' Passage To Pluto in bed. I loved his books as a boy. They're naively optimistic tales of an international space programmme, and specifically four young astronauts who explore the solar system. I stumbled on Walters by accident in the library when my Mum was directing me to Jules Verne, alphabetically adjacent to Walters. I think Pluto was the first one I read. Knowing the way my mind worked, I probably assumed that as Pluto was the furthest planet, it would be the most exciting book.
Slept blissfully, save for a horrific nightmare. My fiction editor had rejected my latest pitch (which I'm sure he's going to do in a week or so, anyway). Worse, there had been a heavy rainstorm at home, and water was leaking through my attic study's sloped ceiling on to my desk and computers. The wallpaper developed bumps, one of which opened, due to the wet, and disgorged a swarm of wet and angry wasps. I realised the other bumps were also full of wasps. I don't know what was more traumatising; the inevitability of being stung, or the possible loss of data.
This weekend, we'll finally send the wedding invitations out, and I'll be choosing a suit. Quite appropriate for Valentine's Day.