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Due to my twelve-hour Monday, I'm planning to spend just under four hours at work on Friday, getting the bare minimum of paperwork done and then scramming out and coming home and proceeding to start my weekend. I need to remember to e-mail Pink Shirt Guy and the usual suspects about my early departure this upcoming Monday, and the late arrival Tuesday. These are due to first the crown appointment and then the Vash appointment, with emphasis on "I might be riding the bus unless they want me to come back after they get the parts".

My plans for the 14th are entirely probably hosed. I e-mailed Darkside to let him know about a) the car-mash, b) my intended plans, and c) the hosing of them. I was truthful: "I'd been plotting to drop by on Wednesday evening and shove flowers at you and run", though that should not come as a surprise to him. This is fairly traditional for the holiday. If it's a non-weekend, I tend to show up around when he'll be getting home from work, bearing flowers, and proceed to be all awkward and then flee before he can accuse me of attempting to be romantic. It's worked fairly well so far. I think.

Snarky Lady thinks my courtship style is hilarious.

My hair's getting longer, and the end of my braid is now down to bra strap length. It's definitely longer than the hair in the current default userpic, the Francine picture. I need to go on a hunt for split ends at some point in the near future, because I keep seeing a mass of white dots when I have my hair over my shoulder. It's the hair that goes down my back rather than the sides, because the sides are close enough to my face that when I see a split end, I trim it. I need proper hair scissors, too, or at least a nice pair of dedicated sharp scissors.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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