(no subject)
For the past hour or so, I've been sitting here going "what's that smell?" I finally remember it's sandalwood, and oh my god, isn't there a not-quite-closed orange sandalwood aromatherapy massage sandy things in oil sitting on my dresser? So up I hop, to discover Roscoe's crash-landing sometime last night succeeded in knocking it over, leaving it to seep out during the night onto the papers the jar fell sideways onto. As I put my junk mail and old papers up there, there has been no huge loss in the paperwork department, besides that one sketch I did that I didn't like anyway. My dresser is also the 'haven't read yet' bookholder, as the bookshelf is full. (I need another bookshelf. Actually, I need a proper computer desk and not my mother's borrowed sewing table and turn its extra shelf space into book spots.) Also, recently read books go there when I'm too lazy to put them away. And now the back third of my much read and loved The Redemption of Althalus has been turned into scented soggy paper. *cries*
On the plus side, my room smells pretty. But I liked my book better.
On the plus side, my room smells pretty. But I liked my book better.