(no subject)
Jul. 5th, 2005 02:06 pmIt was a good day yesterday. There was Batman, again, and much drooling over the utter and complete hotness that it Christian Bale. There was productivity in writing, which, Fluff, remind me to e-mail you the latest copy of that sometime tonight or possibly tomorrow. There was an e-mail.
There were brownies and Kraft shells and cheese which I probably should not have eaten but bleh. So much for healthy. Screw healthy, I wanted comfort food, dammit.
I finished Season 2 of Roswell, finally. Now I just have to do Season 1 of Stargate, all of Kingdom Hospital (Antubis!) and Seasons 1-4 of Angel, when they finally arrive.
Today, however, blows the monkey's left nut straight out of the water. I am at work. I am at work my full shift. I am at work my full shift and trying very very hard not to sneeze violently in the customers' ears. Though some of them could probably benefit from it. Even Neil Gaiman fails to cheer me up today. I'm either too cold or too hot, and my sinuses are slowly driving an ice pick into my brain. If this keeps up I shall simply refuse to attend game on Friday. I shall, instead, curl up with my laptop in bed and many cold medicines.
However. My faith in my writing has been elevated from something microcosmic to something microscopic.
It's a start.
There were brownies and Kraft shells and cheese which I probably should not have eaten but bleh. So much for healthy. Screw healthy, I wanted comfort food, dammit.
I finished Season 2 of Roswell, finally. Now I just have to do Season 1 of Stargate, all of Kingdom Hospital (Antubis!) and Seasons 1-4 of Angel, when they finally arrive.
Today, however, blows the monkey's left nut straight out of the water. I am at work. I am at work my full shift. I am at work my full shift and trying very very hard not to sneeze violently in the customers' ears. Though some of them could probably benefit from it. Even Neil Gaiman fails to cheer me up today. I'm either too cold or too hot, and my sinuses are slowly driving an ice pick into my brain. If this keeps up I shall simply refuse to attend game on Friday. I shall, instead, curl up with my laptop in bed and many cold medicines.
However. My faith in my writing has been elevated from something microcosmic to something microscopic.
It's a start.