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Oct. 17th, 2016 10:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadeI was fine this morning until I got on Twitter and now I think I need Henry Rollins to shout at me every day for at least an hour until the election. And then maybe fifteen minutes a day for several weeks afterwards. I just. Ugh. People. Can we not?
I was going to do Inktober catchup yesterday and then ended up being mostly horizontal all day (which led to going to bed early being utterly fucking useless since I tossed and turned for an hour and a half but oh well) or at an angle such that I could both almost fall asleep and knit. Plus side, I did prove the concept of the fixeslireavue started and I finished on the pattern of irritating, so by our powers combined we have achieved a full fancy ostrich mitts pattern. Go us. At some point I will do it for real on a ball of cotton that is not a giant snarled mess but right now I'm happy to set that to hibernate and work on other projects.
Ugh, and then a tweet of mine complaining that George Zimmerman's road rage opponent got 20 years and, well, we all know how that ends, but it grew legs and now I have to listen to idiot strangers tell me I'm a perfect example of how women prioritize emotion over facts. Fortunately I gain some small satisfaction from prioritizing literally everything else over answer him so. That's what the mute button is for!
That's what my endless pile of shit I have to get done is for too, heh. Lots of languages. I need to either admit that Murderboarding is no more or get back to Helix, which may happen tomorrow night but more likely this weekend since it might be the first weekend in three weeks where I get an actual weekend. I have vague intentions of getting another couple of hours of overtime in but other than that I can go home and be flat and do flat things. Um. I need to fix that one thing in Sandborn so I can publish it. I have Habitica lists for this, dammit.
Anyway. At this rate though I may just try to stay off Twitter even if I leave it open until after the election, because I have enough shit to do to keep being my awesome self and if I don't keep being my awesome self Henry Rollins will come shout at me some more. Or something.
I was going to do Inktober catchup yesterday and then ended up being mostly horizontal all day (which led to going to bed early being utterly fucking useless since I tossed and turned for an hour and a half but oh well) or at an angle such that I could both almost fall asleep and knit. Plus side, I did prove the concept of the fixes
lireavue started and I finished on the pattern of irritating, so by our powers combined we have achieved a full fancy ostrich mitts pattern. Go us. At some point I will do it for real on a ball of cotton that is not a giant snarled mess but right now I'm happy to set that to hibernate and work on other projects.Ugh, and then a tweet of mine complaining that George Zimmerman's road rage opponent got 20 years and, well, we all know how that ends, but it grew legs and now I have to listen to idiot strangers tell me I'm a perfect example of how women prioritize emotion over facts. Fortunately I gain some small satisfaction from prioritizing literally everything else over answer him so. That's what the mute button is for!
That's what my endless pile of shit I have to get done is for too, heh. Lots of languages. I need to either admit that Murderboarding is no more or get back to Helix, which may happen tomorrow night but more likely this weekend since it might be the first weekend in three weeks where I get an actual weekend. I have vague intentions of getting another couple of hours of overtime in but other than that I can go home and be flat and do flat things. Um. I need to fix that one thing in Sandborn so I can publish it. I have Habitica lists for this, dammit.
Anyway. At this rate though I may just try to stay off Twitter even if I leave it open until after the election, because I have enough shit to do to keep being my awesome self and if I don't keep being my awesome self Henry Rollins will come shout at me some more. Or something.