(no subject)

2020 was awful, and I have no particular desire to reflect on it even if I did, technically speaking, have personal accomplishments. (Got my PhD candidacy and consequently my MA in history, though I guess it's not official-official until Monday when the Dean of the graduate school certifies it. Does that make it a 2020 degree or a 2021 degree? I have the same problem with my first MA.)

I spent the passing of the year on Zoom with the same friends I went to WDW with last January (we have a standing Sunday night Zoom hangout), putting together a cart that I want to use as a book cart. It was surprisingly gratifying to do furniture assembly first thing in the new year -- making something that hadn't existed the year before. I'll have to remember that for the next new year, if we can all think that far ahead. (I try not to, right now.)

I did my end of year reading round-up earlier today on Twitter, and it was...uh. I read seventy-eight fewer books in 2020 than I did in 2019, and in 2019 I was doing my comps. (I don't track school reading.) Yikes. Like, I still read 120 books, but that's the fewest since 2015, so it's a pretty shocking number for me.

*sighs* What a year. I don't want to think about it.