dulcetly...notes on a bookish life

With daylight stretching a little bit longer as we move toward the solstice, I've been waking up oddly early, the extra time of which I've been spending writing first thing in the morning, which is odd for me since it is usually quite the opposite. I'm not sure if I like it, but it is productive, and with all the things afoot press-wise, it's absolutely necessary if I want to get any writing done whatsoever. The heat wave that moved in over the weekend is persisting, so I like to pretend I'm somewhere exotic and sun drenched like Mexico or Greece. The sort of place where you actually seek heat out rather than try to avoid it. I've been working myself into a funk every afternoon, however, over any number of things, a funk I then have to work myself out of to enjoy any sort of a produtive evening. Could be weather, could be hormonal, who knows, but there is alot of cranky. I try to preserve the good mood I arrive at work in, but it seems to go to hell awfully fast lately.