Biscotti dough is in the fridge chilling. I’ll bake it before dawn tomorrow by the full moon when it’s still cool, every supposing I get up at a decent hour. My sleep cycle is all over the place, although to me it feels like I’m giving up the afternoon nap in favour of staying up later at night.
Tomorrow I’m supposed to poke my head in at the doc’s to report my current feels. My pressure has not gone down, although damn, my anxiety is almost knocked back. You’re supposed to watch out for depression on this stuff, so I am.
Season two of Lucifer, enjoying the hell out of it, haw haw. It’s good-hearted and cheesy and melodramatic and sweet and autistic (smart people being too honest for their own good) and procedural and scary and at least a handful of buffed-over vampire slayer style fighting scenes plus karaoke. It should not work, on paper it’s an abortion pulled through a shrapnel hole,
It is also, in spots, really funny and that part I like too.
