Day so far, full of fail.
Got woken up by cousins calling my phone at two in the morning, and again at three, four, and six-thirty. Nice people, some of us sleep. Please remember that, because some of us also hit. Hitting is much more fun for me than it is for you, at least when I'm the one doing it. So cut that out, if you would be so very kind, and spare my knuckles a bruising against your skull.
Unlike yesterday, I managed to remember to grab my lunch on the way out the door, so today is somewhat less likely to be characterized by sugar-crashes and longing staring at the brains of the unwary. Also unlike yesterday, I managed to forget my umbrella and my art bag. So a) it better not rain, and b) I expect to start twitching mindlessly when my hands get bored, try to doodle, and find nothing to doodle with. I will be strong. I will not go to the art store. Largely because I went to the art store yesterday, but hey, we're just going to ignore that part, right? What's a little marker habit between friends?
(I'm going to sell off a bunch of the non-book-specific art cards, simply because I need the funds to compensate for the fact that I'm an art supply junkie. It's sad but it's true. I suppose there are worse things I could be addicted to. Like shoes. That doesn't make the marker bills any lower, but it makes me feel a little bit better.)
I fly to Seattle tomorrow evening, after spending a half-day at work, doing my normal Wednesday comic book pickup, buying my Wondercon tickets, and generally fire-drilling all over the place. This promises to be fun, in that rare sort of way that means 'on the other end of the agony, I get Vixy, and Tony, and access to a Tivo containing the new episode of Leverage, and people who know not to poke at me when I'm all flipped-out from travel.' (Sometimes people who don't understand that I've just spent X number of hours in transit and hate everything come to meet me at the airport. Sometimes people are a little disturbed by the fact that I seem to hail from Stepford, USA when this happens. Sometimes people are silly.) This means that tonight is my last chance to run errands, package CDs, clean my room, and generally get things done.
Please excuse me if I am nothing but a streaky blonde blur for the next twenty-four hours.
Unlike yesterday, I managed to remember to grab my lunch on the way out the door, so today is somewhat less likely to be characterized by sugar-crashes and longing staring at the brains of the unwary. Also unlike yesterday, I managed to forget my umbrella and my art bag. So a) it better not rain, and b) I expect to start twitching mindlessly when my hands get bored, try to doodle, and find nothing to doodle with. I will be strong. I will not go to the art store. Largely because I went to the art store yesterday, but hey, we're just going to ignore that part, right? What's a little marker habit between friends?
(I'm going to sell off a bunch of the non-book-specific art cards, simply because I need the funds to compensate for the fact that I'm an art supply junkie. It's sad but it's true. I suppose there are worse things I could be addicted to. Like shoes. That doesn't make the marker bills any lower, but it makes me feel a little bit better.)
I fly to Seattle tomorrow evening, after spending a half-day at work, doing my normal Wednesday comic book pickup, buying my Wondercon tickets, and generally fire-drilling all over the place. This promises to be fun, in that rare sort of way that means 'on the other end of the agony, I get Vixy, and Tony, and access to a Tivo containing the new episode of Leverage, and people who know not to poke at me when I'm all flipped-out from travel.' (Sometimes people who don't understand that I've just spent X number of hours in transit and hate everything come to meet me at the airport. Sometimes people are a little disturbed by the fact that I seem to hail from Stepford, USA when this happens. Sometimes people are silly.) This means that tonight is my last chance to run errands, package CDs, clean my room, and generally get things done.
Please excuse me if I am nothing but a streaky blonde blur for the next twenty-four hours.