My exciting Friday night plans include raw cookie dough, a glass of water and another episode in the first season of Game of Thrones. I am hopelessly addicted despite the fact that Martin creates new characters only so that he can imagine for them brutal, hopeless deaths more creative and horrible than all the brutal, hopeless deaths that have already occurred.
I’m reading book three and watching season one and I still haven’t learned not to get attached to anyone. I love it.
On a much lighter note, I wrote about bedtime at Mamalode today.
I love bed time for all the wrong reasons. Actually, one specific wrong reason: because it means in 45 minutes I will have three hours all to myself. A crackling fire, a glass of wine and the fourth book in the Game of Thrones series call my name plaintively from downstairs, forcing me to dig deep and breathe slowly through the last push. … these small moments at Mamalode.
Yes, that’s right, I actually took a break from Game of Thrones to write something. Astonishing, I know.