There was the Consultation About the Backstabbing Baggage -- it turns out that someone associated with a chat that I hang out in has an associate who was having troubles with a backstabbing baggage in what I am guessing is high school. Said baggage's proposal was that the associate make with the name of the person that the associate currently had a crush on (for the baggage to know and then do with as she saw fit), or said baggage would spread rumors linking the name of the associate with assorted social pariahs et cetera. Many people from the chat stepped forward to suggest plans of operation. I advocated the path of telling the baggage no such thing, and in fact telling the baggage that it was no [fucking] business of hers, and furthermore was a signatory to the proposal that the chat log in which the baggage made such threats be publicized should the baggage carry through on said threats (after having proposed a more generic version of the same, to wit, "tell any interested party what the baggage was threatening"). Some advice from Aral Vorkosigan was quoted.
I did laundry.
I typed up old poetry.
There were the type of BLT sandwiches that also have pickles and turkey meat. Also sourdough bread. Hooray for San Francisco!
I put my blankie (actually a comforter) and my nightgown in to wash before leaving for happy fun TV night.
There was agoraphobia.
There was discovering that the lost BART card was indeed in my pocket -- freshly washed! I will see later if it's still good.
There was texting back and forth with Dawn. I caught her up on bits of things. (Notable: while my aunt was trying to socialize a Dalmatian, it got free and Deacon ran afoul of its pointy bits. A strip 6"x3" was torn off by the fearsome jaws of the nasty little piece of work. There were many stitches. My cousin reports that Deacon is starting to get stir-crazy, and that the poodle is going mad because he is getting no attention.)
BART featured some guy going on about his experiences in getting out of whatever lockup he was in with no cash, and the associated difficulties involved with getting from one place to another on public transit. The person he was chattering with was disgruntled about not being able to smoke in the BART station.
There was the last bits of SPN, and then some Firefly! Train Job, Shindig. Hooray! I liked the plottiness. I love the details of the setting. Mal is getting drunk, and they are drinking out of sawed-off water bottles. :D Mal has a habit of getting in scrapes that day. Mal has a problem with smarting off.
I love the characters. When Mal mouths off and hurts poor Kaylee's feelings, and then Jayne asks what the fuck, it is worse than the blind leading the blind. Heh. I particularly liked the way that it was quietly established that Companions (especially Inara) are worth their own introduction to a formal event, by saying "X and escort" first, then "Lord Y and Lady Y", and then "Buttface and Inara". It was not just noise; it was establishing the social order. Inara is at least as worthy of being announced by name as a lady. And Kaylee! Dress! I was expecting to cringe a lot more, because people being bad in social situations is a bit of a squick of mine, but it was really not all that bad. I loved how Kaylee found herself in the middle of a group of admiring people tech-talking, because that sort of thing is *fun*. And oh, Mal. You fool, you.
(And I miss you, my dear, and I wish I were watching this with you.)
There was discovering how bad the elevator at 16 & Mission down to the BART station really smells. >_<
There were no BART weirdoes on the return trip.
This was made up for by the drivethrough experience; I decided to hit In N Out for a late night meal (rather than cooking something new or having a 3rd BLT in the day). It was a little past 1 at this point, but their sign was still lit up, so I figured I'd give it a go. There was someone ahead of me in the drivethru. The drive there is also kind of special, with the plastic poles and the kinks and all. The person in there ahead of me started backing up. I wanted to know what was with this shit. They kept backing up. I figured I had best back up too. So I started to. Meanwhile someone had come in behind me. They started backing up, with the unmistakable car body language of "what is this crazy bitch doing?!" I backed up more. There was an unfortunate incident with the fucking crazy shaped drive, the lack of space the maniac ahead of me was giving, my ability to drive backwards, and the fucking plastic poles. Once I got out, the fuckers in front of me got out and peeled off into the parking lot. I parked, stomped back, and set the poles back upright. The guy behind me went into the drivethrough. I got in my car and nosed into the drivethrough, and sat for several minutes at the unresponsive speaker. Hmm. They might be closed! So, LIKE A SANE PERSON, I drove frontways through the drivethrough. OH HEY. IT WORKS. IMAGINE THAT, FUCKERS.
I came home to a washing machine claiming its load was not all up ons. I re-balanced it, and set it to dry. (It is not loud, unlike washing, with its spin cycle and such as.)
Hello, morning. Now my nightgown is dry.