Because, as it turns out, a good fit of depression might be exactly what I need in order to get back to productive writing. At last: scientific proof that very fucked-up people really are more creative people.
I can feel better about my neuroses now. Woot!
But whilst I'm still happy, I'm going to finish that last book on glaciers I've got, read the long-awaited second half of Connie Willis's two-part book, peruse great geology blogs, tour a hospital, watch a fuck of a lot of Castle (we've got season two, y'know!), write up some geology, play with the kitteh, and enjoy my wonderful new car. Come the first of November, if the gray, rainy days haven't done the job, I'll hold some onions up to my eyes and fake it 'till I make it.