Much slayage in our domicile last evening, but we all swore a mightly oath that we’d do SOMETHING outside today and no longer fall into the arms of Drusilla and Spike and the rest of the bloodsucking crew.
I should examine our food stores and determine exactly what we have to for picanic baskets.
Buffy has definitely given me a boot in the rear end in her patented high kicking way… A project I shelved a while back was whispering to me half the night. There’s nothing in common between Buffy and this other thing except that there is ‘a situation’ and a bunch of lovely, weird, intelligent people in it. But a pilot and 13 episodes? Sheesh. That’s a lot of writing. Every time I think of the characters, I can SEE them! I can see what the front reception area looks like, and what the main character looks like, and what his voice sounds like when he sings (he’s a retired one hit wonder). There is A LOT of music in the story. Music is actually integral to the story. No more talking about it, it’s bad luck.
My domestic sitcheeation at the moment does unspeakable things to long dead bears, and there’s zip I can do about it except stiffen my orbicularis oris to the point the speech is no longer possible.
Pic is something random from the last few days.