Ow.

I did it again. I've spent so many hours sitting in a chair reading Sherlock fanfic and looking for ways to flee intern someplace that I've never been before (or volunteer, or study, I'll take anything), that everything hurts. It's like writing all those essays for the MA, except better somehow. I need to get out. I'm going to be stuck inside for months as soon as I get back to Illinois due to stupid cold being stupid and yet I'm not going out! Why?

I am resisting the urge to read more Sherlock fic so much right now. I both love and hate these new obsessions. There I was, nicely working on my novel when the tv dies and I think, "Why not check out that Sherlock show that everyone kept talking about way back when. It's only three episodes and I haven't had the urge to get involved in fandom in months (I have no idea what happened).

One week later, I've seen every episode twice (and the first one thrice!), I've read enough fanfic to give me an eye ache for a year and a need for new vertebrae and I can't stop! Ahhh!

No bunnies, at least. Or is that bad? Should I have bunnies? But I can't have bunnies. I have a novel to write, damnit! But shouldn't I at least have a little bunny?

In other news, I'm finally studying French again. But it's probably only because I need to take breaks from the computer before my spine has a total breakdown.

I need those DVDs now. Before I go completely batty. I haven't had an obsession like this in a long time.