Season of mists...

It's beginning to feel ever so slightly autumnal down here. The last few days have had a new bite in the wind, and my toesies have been hinting to me that it may be time to put the duvet back on my bed. I even have a conker in my coat pocket. It's all prompting me to empty my online shopping bags of floaty maxi dresses and flippy cotton skirts, and refill them with faux fur, shearling and velvet. Of course I still can't afford to actually buy any of these clothes, so it's all a bit of a waste of time really. Window shopping for the digital age. But then what else am I supposed to do while I'm unemployed? I'm trying to fill the day with productive things like knitting or working on my sign language, but there's only so much time you can spend on such things before you start to go a bit doolally, and I'm quite doolally enough to begin with. On the plus side, I finally dug out Firefly from the back of the shelf and started watching it. I acquired it when I was working on my dissertation, and then I went straight into exam revision, so I developed a bit of a Pavlovian response to it, where every time I looked at it I got an intense feeling of guilt, as if I had far more important things to do. Now, fortuitously, I have nothing more important to do, and it really is brilliant. Why would they cancel it? It's a mystery.