(no subject)
Earlier today I managed to nearly work myself into a panic attack because my keys were in my coat pocket instead of my purse. And people don't believe anxiety disorders are real.
--
My conservative aunt and some other members of that side of the family are pissing me off again, so you know what that means-- GAY PORN. Or, y'know, gay people kissing, or holding hands, or generally just committing the foul crime of being gay and happy at the same time. Leave me a couple and a prompt and I'll see what I can do. It's NaNoWriMo, though, so no guarantees, unless you ask for Gina/Ivy and the Regency, in which case you're probably going to get a lot more than you asked for or even wanted.
--
why why why why why is it not Friday at six-thirty. I am working from nine to six tomorrow with one maybe half-hour break to drive from job to job, which means I don't get to eat until my break at Job #2, which will be at about fourish? So my breakfast better be good. Oh, and I have to get up at AT LEAST 7:30 so I can then feed my neighbors' cats before I go to Job #1, then be very swift about leaving Job #2 so I can feed them again. Oh, and sometime tonight I have to clean the house up so my landlord doesn't come back from her vacation in London and decide I'm a hopeless slob who can't be a property manager.
Why am I working so many jobs, world? What possessed me to do this?
--
ugh. Tired. Come on, self, only 2.5k words and you can go to bed.
--
If I owe you comments, they will probably appear over the weekend. Until then I have a full schedule of not panicking and not dying.
--
Thirty-four days, nineteen hours, twenty-nine minutes and twenty-one seconds until Peter.
This entry is crossposted at http://bookblather.dreamwidth.org/110281.html. Please comment over there if possible.
--
My conservative aunt and some other members of that side of the family are pissing me off again, so you know what that means-- GAY PORN. Or, y'know, gay people kissing, or holding hands, or generally just committing the foul crime of being gay and happy at the same time. Leave me a couple and a prompt and I'll see what I can do. It's NaNoWriMo, though, so no guarantees, unless you ask for Gina/Ivy and the Regency, in which case you're probably going to get a lot more than you asked for or even wanted.
--
why why why why why is it not Friday at six-thirty. I am working from nine to six tomorrow with one maybe half-hour break to drive from job to job, which means I don't get to eat until my break at Job #2, which will be at about fourish? So my breakfast better be good. Oh, and I have to get up at AT LEAST 7:30 so I can then feed my neighbors' cats before I go to Job #1, then be very swift about leaving Job #2 so I can feed them again. Oh, and sometime tonight I have to clean the house up so my landlord doesn't come back from her vacation in London and decide I'm a hopeless slob who can't be a property manager.
Why am I working so many jobs, world? What possessed me to do this?
--
ugh. Tired. Come on, self, only 2.5k words and you can go to bed.
--
If I owe you comments, they will probably appear over the weekend. Until then I have a full schedule of not panicking and not dying.
--
Thirty-four days, nineteen hours, twenty-nine minutes and twenty-one seconds until Peter.
This entry is crossposted at http://bookblather.dreamwidth.org/110281.html. Please comment over there if possible.