What would you say if I came around back and climbed in your window?
It's a support column near the back door to my place - well, what's normally considered the back door, but we use it as the main entrance. This collar has been attached to it for at least a month now. I wonder about Bob. What happened to him? He's probably a cat, but what kind? Do his owners miss him? Why leave the collar here? I guess I could always call and find out, but sometimes it's better to wonder.
Ink is closing down. So it goes. I took the copy of The Stranger from the bookshelves because, well, it's not like anyone else is going to need it. I thought about taking it earlier, but felt a little bad and returned it. Not now. It's mine. Then a group of us went to get some late-night food, tossing references back and forth, talking about movies and biology and "plantology" and maths and fractals. That's the sort of thing I can steer a conversation towards.
zophos: You should do what makes you happy. Finding that is the hard part. City Slickers taught me that it's just one thing. What's your one thing?
substitute: Six months to a year. Something like that.
snuffaluffafuck: Definitely more.
odradak: Maybe? Oh, who am I kidding? YES.
yeseggs: C'mon, that's not even possible. There are no pain receptors. I mean, it processes pain, but it doesn't feel it itself. I think.
sp0rk0: It's going to be tough, and you're going to cry. Don't suppress the grief. This too shall pass.
nefas: When I was much younger and would be troublesome, I'd sometimes do things that resulted in my mother chasing me around, threatening to hit me if she caught me. One day I nervously asked her why she'd always want to throw up on me when she was mad. You see, the two words sound sort of similar in Hebrew. Also, nothing is certain; I've never done it either.
fimmtiu: I do, but I don't have it much. I prefer honeydew.