When Anders rolled out of bed this morning, he'd immediately yawned, rubbed his eyes, and padded out to the living room (careful to swerve that one spot where the leak had been in case bits of ceiling were still falling, only to smack his shins into the coffee table) in keeping with the pattern of the past two weeks ( Read more... )

With the excitement of Bridge and Xander's wedding (sadly) over and done with, it was back to the daily grind for Anders, which this week pretty much just meant sprawling on the couch, watching the Olympics and going through job posting sites every time they cut away to the fluff segments and event recaps with way too many dramatic words ( Read more... )

The air conditioner hadn't worked in a week, and Anders hadn't really moved from the couch except for during news segments since Friday night. Not because of the heat, of course; far be it from Samuel T. Anders to tear himself away from a veritable two-week orgy of athletic prowess, even if the time zones made it inconvenient. (Time zones? Pfft ( Read more... )

Anders was sprawled out on the couch with his laptop on his stomach, mindlessly flipping between Craigslist job listings and the blank Word document, its cursor blinking and, he was fairly sure, mocking him for the letter he was trying and failing to compose ( Read more... )