which has continued wyrd. I don’t get it every November, but this is coming on very nicely, although in meatspace this is Jeff checking up to see that I haven’t left doors open and cheese on counters. In other words, perfectly normal. I am distracted with the distraction of (I can’t say what… an internal process… not a bad one) and I’m finally through the course of ulcer drugs and starting to try to digest things again.
Side note. My surface itchiness dropped to almost zero while I was on the antibiotics. Make of that what you will. It’s been heavenly. I feel like I’ve been rolled up in lotion and left at the spa. It’s been fucking awesome. I’m expecting it to all be over shortly, of course.
I had an enormous bowl of organic instant oatmeal. I have to start making my own since this stuff has too much sugar in it. Paul says he gets a special kind and steams it and says that’s Scottish style and I say it’s undercooked. We both can’t be wrong. Part of the fun of oatmeal is the goo in between and having it served as a sort of hot salty dense salad with salt water dressing seems a bit much to me… I suppose I’m out of line casting (the hook appears, thankfully
I have calls to return. I have a group lunch date on Friday next, and possibly a group lunch date Saturday next. I’ve actioned some actionable shit. There’s a load in the laundry.
THERE IS A GODFORSAKEN INCH OF FUCKING SNOW ON THE DECK.
Anyhoo, despite the rudeness of the awakening (jest about spat out mer tea when Er saw that E’rm telling yer) I am filled with bubbling happiness. Upsun’s in, Sweep Off is well under way and I’m going to keep churning with the edits since after six fucking months I’m finally in the mood to edit again because what I’m reading no longer seems like dreadful shit.
Read enough fanfic and you’ll DEFINITELY get yourself into the mood to edit the living shit out of everything.
Also, I’ve realized what shifts in English I’m prepared to flow with, and which I’m going to be all Prof. Fussey on and go all “I DIE ON THIS HILL, and possibly on THAT ONE OVER THERE, ok maybe I SHALL OF COURSE CAST MY LOT BEFORE GOD ON… which one of you wiseacres said I should just be calling out the GPS coordinates” on.
Fanfic is interesting that way because some of the things non-native English speakers do is cool and okay by me and other stuff — that’s really common, no matter where she learned English — makes me want to learn magic so I can raise all her ancestors from the dead and stab them to death on a laser guided unicorn horn, in front of her. Just writing out that line made me realize I need therapy but I can hear a series of catcalls from the shadows, starting with most of Paul’s male relatives, when I even put that thought out into the ether. I am a bloodthirsty critter in my fictional selves, and such a mushed-out wuss in the one true self I step around in.
ODDFudbuster But I’m a much happier critter now, possibly healthier and SNOW.