When two people are in the kitchen chatting, and one is putting away the dishes, and one is exhausted in mind, but not so much in body...
...when the one who is unloading the dishes places clean dishes in the hands of the zonked one, the zonked one will put them away without realizing what he is doing.
*Lunatic makes "I am sneaky" noises*
Tonight: what an overload.
I've rarely been boggled like that before. NRE, or something like it, all over the place. (Oddly: with Darkside, the NRE has sometimes faded, but has always come back stronger than ever: is this typical? Or is it just a side effect of what looks to be an extended courtship?) I was nearly flattened. I was incoherent.
It was like being under the influence of substances -- like me on the first stages of alcohol, just after buzzed, but before truly physically impaired. Only there was no certainty that the feeling would fade as the substance left my system.
A little scary, actually. I've learned how to function around pain. This, as effectively as the attack in Triangle, left me helpless. It wasn't hostile, but it was ... incapacitating.
My words had almost left me.
...I want to learn how to function under that. I enjoy the sensation.
Observed elsewhere that it was common for those who did not practice magic, but thought it was really cool, to have all sorts of stuff that looked magical, but did exactly jack. Also, said Cool Stuff would be displayed proudly, whether or not it had any magical virtue.
Those who actually actively practice, on the other hand, rarely have a show-perfect altar set up: in practice, it tends to collect the things that work, even if they are odd little bits and pieces. Not all actual magical items would look magical to the layman.
The magical workspace tends to reflect the practitioner. If someone's neat and tidy, and their living space tends to look like it's straight out of a magazine, their workspace will likely look that way too. If, however, they're apt to have less than perfect tidiness in other areas, the workspace will also reflect that.
If someone's workspace doesn't reflect their personality, then they probably aren't very active in working magic.
Called home. No one answered, since it was 0700 there. I'm used to it only being an hour off.
FatherSir called right back.
He told me about a time, once upon a time, when he was living in Alaska (I think before the days of Mama) and some kids came by trick-or-treating. He wasn't prepared for this, so he had no candy. So, instead of candy, he gave the kids some of the finest things he had to give: a nice piece of firewood, a can of stewed tomatoes. (That was all he could remember; there was more.) Evidently after he closed the door the kids fell down laughing.
One of the kids is now a grown-up, and is back in town. FatherSir plans, for old times' sake, to find a burlap sack and give her a nice piece of firewood, a can of stewed tomatoes, and a bag of chocolate chips.
It seems that Aunt-Fayoumis and Uncle-Fayoumis are all right, and the house and barn are OK, but the trailer is not. Also, Aunt-Fayoumis, according to Guide Dog Aunt, own[s/ed] another house; my parents aren't particularly certain about what is up with that house.
It's good to talk to my family. I should call more often...
I'm going into cleaning frenzy. We did our first round of shopping, picked up her paycheck, deposited that and my survey money, dropped off library books...
...now, to clean. And stuff.
Later, I think I'll go give plasma.
Hotlips, dearest? You've been falling out of my filters. LJ is being a bitch. I haven't defiltered you from anything on purpose. Let me know if you can see my filtered posts...
Doing laundry. Doing four loads of laundry.
Made a The Cheat costume, sorta. It's drying right now.
Still have yet to scrub bathroom.
I have been unsure of the location of my watch for several days. Almost a week, in fact.
I figured it would turn up sometime. And it did.
In the laundry.
More specifically, in the dryer. After the drying cycle was complete.
It's still in good condition, if a bit warm and scuffed.