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I told myself that I didn't want to go outside until it was at least zero degrees and Canberra is generously obliging. Last night it was -6 and right now it's heading for zero apace, and it's a half hour before I have to leave. It's just as well it's a half hour, for my computer is grumbling because it got cold. A grumbling computer is a pain in the neck, but I've managed this morning's edits regardless.

Last night I dreamed of many things, and I woke up trying to fathom if my mind was informing me that I was going to write about 19th century literature. Either that, or I have to re-read something, but I can't remember what. Not Dickens. Not Gissing. Possibly Martineau. And not for a few weeks, regardless of the vividness of the dream. There was a philosopher in the dream and there were family friends who persuaded me to mind their dog and then went off somewhere without me. This totally made me think of one of my sisters, oddly. Not that any of my sisters are philosophers or have dogs.

After great consideration, the secret message in my dream was quite possibly that it was cold last night. It's going to be gorgeous today, however. Even as I've typed, the temperature has shot up above zero. It may be as warm as five degrees before I venture out, and it will probably be around 14 degrees after I finish teaching, when I race around like a mad chicken, trying to remember what messages are to be done. It won't cool down again until I'm back here, ensconced next to the heater, persuading my computer not to be a pill.

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Now it's almost 11 degrees and term has officially finished for me. I hall have my official term-is-finished-and-I-can't-stand-up without support nap. Before then, I shall admire this entry on CSFG's website: http://csfg.wordpress.com/2012/07/04/congratulations-to-gillian-polack/ After then, I have novel to edit, dissertation to footnote and etc. Much (as usual) etc. No teaching until I reach Sydney, though, which gives me bunches of time to sort myself out.

Speaking of Sydney, I will be round long enough for dinner with friends. The question is, do any of my Sydney friends want dinner with me?

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End of term hit. I keep forgetting that it was a 15 week teaching term this time round, which is a long time. I also keep forgetting how very eventful the year has been and keeps on being.

I'm looking at my lists of must-dos and thinking, "Most of them can wait until tomorrow." I've only 2 more chunks of stuff then, that I must do today. I've not been precisely lazy: I crossed six things off the list before it all hit me with a whack.

This evening will be devoted to editing (the big task that cannot be postponed) and to watching daft DVDs. The one other must-do thing can be squiggled in between these important tasks. And everything else is for tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

How is it that my life, when exciting, can't be written down and my life, when busy, gets written down in lists and reduced to a kind of public servitude? Anyhow, for two weeks I can work as late as I like and only have to wake up early once. That once is Sunday, alas, for the write-a-novel-in-a-day charity thingie (I'm part of the CSFG team) and it means waking up at 6.30 am, but it's just one day. I shall complain, but I shall survive.

And there is no more news. Higgs boson particles have swallowed it all.