Lunchtime, after a productive morning. I'm eating leftovers: homemade seitan with agave-mustard sauce, whole-wheat couscous with chopped, toasted pecans, and mashed butternut squash, lightly sweetened with maple syrup. It's a tasty lunch, a nice reward for some work well done. I'm eating it cold, as I do most of my lunches; locating and using a microwave takes to much time from my day. I am also eating in the library stacks, which isn't strictly permitted, but I like how peaceful it is here. I like the smell of the books. I like to sit at one of the desks set into the south wall, with the warm sunshine on the shelves behind me. So I eat in the stacks pretty often, but I eat neatly and quietly and never with any of the library's books on the desk. It's damage to their books that is the issue, right?

My work today has to be cut a little short, as I have errands, plus on Mondays the babysitter needs to leave early, to attend to her own studies. That's OK, though; I miss my little boy dreadfully today. Most mornings I get up between 5 and 6am, while the baby sleeps in an extra hour or two, so I can have a little time by myself, drinking tea, reading, maybe baking, whatever. This morning, though, the little one was restless and fretful and wouldn't leave me be. I snapped at him, and immediately felt awful. He's old enough now that he knows--or thinks he knows--that when Mama speaks angrily, he has been a bad boy. His little eyes flew wide, staring at me and trying to figure out what he had done that earned him a scolding. Of course, I apologized and explained that I was just in a bad mood, that he was a good boy and Mom loves him, etc. Equally of course, the image of his wide eyes has haunted me since I left the house, scrubbing the images of our happy time reading together afterwards over his breakfast or his laughter as he bounced on the bed with his Papa.

Anyway, at least I've no reason for guilty feelings over my dissertation today. It is coming along just fine, slow and steady as a snail likes it.