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dulcet sounds

10:27 AM 3/11/2010
Have returned from farmers market. Hooray for lettuce and other such things. Have got an alligator in the house in my head. Aunt once had an alligator lizard down the back of the dress.

It's reassuring to know that the dulcet sounds of what seems to be guys with crowbars and hammers (and hammering on the crowbars) ripping up the roof of an adjacent building are in fact guys with crowbars and hammers (and hammering on the crowbars) ripping up the roof of an adjacent building.

10:33 AM 3/11/2010
Suggestion to make for both LJ and DW: make the user.journal.tld/security/ page do something useful.

10:37 AM 3/11/2010
Dear tired eyes: "render farm" != "reindeer farm", even though Brain thinks this is *hilarious*, and will be repeating it for possibly *weeks*.

10:43 AM 3/11/2010
I LIKE REBOOTY BOOTY.

Challenges in the realm of selfhood: referring to one of your alternate journals as "her journal", because she's not quite you. (Who else would she be? Part of the Collective, still and always.)

10:47 AM 3/11/2010
There is a moth on my kitchen cabinet. In my rush to determine that it actually was a moth, I stepped on the artichoke spread. Fortunately, it was in a bag and did not thus get all over my foot or the floor.

7:00 PM 3/11/2010
Moth has left kitchen cabinet.

2:06 AM 3/12/2010
Have not only returned from Generalized Hilarity At Tif's Night, but have also taken in my Problematic Shorts to account for the string that the washing machine ate.

Tonight featured Were the World Mine (conservative high school does A Midsummer Night's Dream with the gay guy as Puck, and Wacky Hijinks Ensue; at one point Tif and I chorused together, "That's the wrong play!" as the boys quoted something from R&J), which was good times. Then came Tom Brown's Schooldays, which has Joseph Beattie (the significance of whom means little to people who aren't in the same RPG as me), Alex Pettyfer (the significance of whom may be lost on those who are not on the same ever-loving email list I am on), and Stephen Fry (thou shalt not question him). (Oh dear, I just earwormed myself.)

Figured out what has to happen before Connie tells Mike the whole story on her ex. Poor Connie. Poor Mike.

I think it is time to go see whether the apartment complex gym has specified hours, and whether my little electronic key is good on that door.

3:15 AM 3/12/2010
Apparently either my key is no good, or my key does not work during certain hours. Undaunted, I went on a walk that turned out to be 45 minutes or so round trip, and only had to use my cane a little. (My left knee is annoyed, though.)

3:39 AM 3/12/2010
My love language scores are warped by the fact that there are some things that I actually cannot imagine certain parties doing, when I read through the assessment: to have them do this would seem completely strange and unnatural. So I don't mark that, because it wouldn't make sense in context.
My scores:
5 Words of Affirmation
8 Quality Time
6 Receiving Gifts
2 Acts of Service
9 Physical Touch
http://www.afo.net/hftw-lovetest.asp is less cloyingly heteronormative and inescapably romantic than the thing on the official site.

4:03 AM 3/12/2010
Much like Bren, I had a little tea and now I cannot stop tasting it or smelling it (even after drinking coca-cola after the tea). Unlike Bren, it was non-toxic to my species. :D

5:57 AM 3/12/2010
Reminder to self: no matter how funny it seems, any hobby depicted in an XKCD comic is entirely possibly not a good idea to pick up.

8:05 AM 3/12/2010
Goggles, yes. Zeppelins with wifi. But more with the brown trenchcoats these days, rather than red capes. (re: http://xkcd.com/239/ )

10:16 AM 3/12/2010
Have started to get commentary from Mike about the Current Book Scene that just started writing itself all out of continuity, so I'm going to have to look for a place for it when I go back through with the timetable, the calendar, and the pruning shears. Mike is perhaps tending toward the mildly-pornographic this morning.

Crossposted. comment count unavailable comments.
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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