ksmith | Sunday morning

A writing day! A red pencil day! And the sun rises!

Actually, the sun rose some time ago, but never let the facts get in the way of a good war cry.

King shoved a slipper in my face at the usual time--730ish--and I threw on indoor clothes--as in, clothes I would not be seen in except by dogs who don't care--fed him and Gaby and myself, and fired up the laptop. I need to get quite a bit of work done in the coming week, and brain is obliging by sliding into Work Mode, a blindered state in which nothing else exists but The WIP.

I can't hole up for the entire week, though. I have appointments on four days that will get me out of the house for at least an hour or so at a time. I know they interfere with The Process, but I can't say I'm altogether sorry I made them (except for the annual physical appt. Ick). Getting out of the house is good. More importantly, preparing myself to get out of the house is good. Hair washing. Clothes cleaning. General straightening. If I ever were able to write full time, I'm afraid that without the occasional demand that I spiff up, I could become the most frightful hermit. Not a wild-haired hoarder so much as someone who forgets exactly what constitutes neat hair and a shirt one can wear in public. This isn't as much of an issue in winter, when one can throw a coat over the mess. But in summer, it can become an issue. It drives the fact home that I am not a particularly together person, and I'm afraid it's rather ground-in at this point, and that bothers me.

Along with a good portion of my various friends lists, I watched the Dr Who Christmas Special. I confess that I cried, and liked a lot of the neat. Had the fact driven home with a club that the US and UK really are separated by a common language because half the time I can't understand what in hell Matt Smith is saying. But I do like him. I think he may slip past Tom Baker to become my second favorite doctor, if he hasn't already.

That said, even as I cried, something bothered me.

galeni over on Twitter put it well when she said that the men were characters and the women were plot devices, but that wasn't the major issue for me. The major issue was that they didn't even try to save Abigail. I realize that the program time was limited and things were moving forward at a rapid clip, but they didn't even say what she suffered from. And even if they didn't...the Doctor went back in time to change an old man's life so that he would in turn save the ship, but he couldn't tweak matters to the point that Abigail didn't get sick? He couldn't even have tried? He, in fact, wrote her off without even trying. She's going to die, so sorry, but we need her to save the 4003. 4004. However many. Then in the end, he and Amy and Mr Amy leave, and Scrooge stand-in and Abigail are last seen flitting through the air in a shark carriage, Abigail laughing like an idiot even though she will be dead in a few hours. She's so damned angelic it makes me want to hurl.

She could have said, "Cure me and I'll sing for you," but that would have been too nasty. Not the right tone for a Christmas special. It's alright for the carpenter to threaten, but the hammer will do what it is told.

That's why the Eccleston Christmas Special is my favorite. As he shouts at the end, "Everybody lives!"

But enough about that. Work to be done.