(no subject)
I am depressed and feel totally useless. I keep being an idiot and reaching out to people who I know aren't going to respond, and then they don't respond and I'm like "oh nooo it's me they hate me" when in fact they're just doing shit like, uh, being too sick or busy to respond, or in one case being sick AND busy AND trapped in fucking Wyoming with a moving truck. (No offense to people who have chosen to go to Wyoming voluntarily. I've been to Wyoming! Voluntarily! It's very pretty. There are mountains, which always weird me out. But being stuck anywhere sucks.) And then of course I am lousy at thinking of anything to say to people who actually talk to me. (I am sorry. I really do like you, people I have ignored!) Anyway, unsurprisingly, that doesn't help at all. I did talk to my grandmother and my aunt today, so that was nice. Also the weird rash/bug bites I have seem to be going away, which is great because they're on my chin and neck and look really unsightly but every time I wear a turtleneck to cover them up they itch like crazy.
Anyway, I have therapy tomorrow and I always hate going into therapy and being like "Hi, I feel terrible." Even though regularly feeling terrible is one of the many reasons I need therapy, duh. IDK, I just always feel like there's some obvious cheat code to not feeling terrible (or whatever issue I am struggling with) and everyone else has it but me.
Re-reported my broken heat, as the thermostat looked like this today around noon. I kind of lost my temper and started allcapsing, but ffs the legal low temp in Chicago is 68 during peak hours and 66 at night. Then I went out and reset the circuit breakers and it worked... until now. And now I have to do it all over again. Was gonna take my computer apart today to maybe clean it out but felt too blah and cold for that. Supposedly tomorrow they're also coming to exterminate bugs.
Before I go, have some more Undertale fic. I did not write much and what I did write ended up being ...not what I wanted to happen, and I'm not sure if my dissatisfaction stems from my general bad mood today or because it is genuinely bad, so I'm holding off editing it out. But anyway, this is from before, when I think I was writing decent stuff. Again, this starts up where I left off yesterday.
"It's not that simple," she says. "They have this kid."
"What?" I am baffled. I've never met him, but the Flower does not strike me as the parental type. I don't even think the guy has friends. It's just him and his goons.
"They have this kid," she repeats. She lights up a cigarette, takes a long drag, and sighs, apparently exhausted from a long day of piano and beating people up. Smoke curls out of her nose, mouth, and gills. "The boss doesn't want to just kill 'em all. Collateral damage, you know?" After a thoughtful pause, she adds, "The boss never wants to just kill 'em all."
"Why do they have a kid?" I ask. "Who is this kid?" My burger comes. I pick the sequins out of it. Never liked the taste of sequins.
She shrugs. "Beats me. Must be a pretty special kid if the Flower's willing to play babysitter. Anyway, we're planning on doing a thing next week. We need you to distract the cops."
"What kind of thing?" I ask.
"It's not your kind of thing," she says, quickly. This is also a euphemism. It means "It's gonna be fucking brutal, Sans." Or "You're a useless lump, Sans. Stay out of it."
I can't really be insulted, because that is basically my job description right there. I work hard at being useless. Still, I'm curious. "How do I know what kind of thing it is or isn't if you won't tell me?" I ask. "When you put it like that --" and here I grin for real, because she walked into it "-- it sounds pretty fishy."
"You planning on helping out?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. "Because if not, it's not your kind of thing."
"You kidding? I'm already working my fingers to the bone here. Besides, you said you needed me to serve as a distraction."
"That's right," she says. "The boss wants to see you tomorrow for lunch. Specific instructions, I guess. Twelve-thirty sharp at Il Spag."
"Gotcha."
"Oh, and…" Undyne makes a face. "She wants you two to take the kid, after. Just for a little while, until things settle down."
"What?" I gotta be straight here, I can barely keep a goldfish alive on a good day. Besides, I have my hands full with Papyrus. And the boss is... well, she used to have kids. I thought she missed 'em. "They're taking the kid? Who is this kid?"
Undyne shrugs. "That I don't know. …You gonna turn her down?" She puffs on her cigarette, thoughtfully.
"She's a hard lady to turn down," I say. "What about the big guy, though? Can't he watch the kid?"
"Yeah, he suggested that." Undyne's frown looks like a knife drawer in disarray. "But like you said. She's a hard lady to turn down."
Anyway, I have therapy tomorrow and I always hate going into therapy and being like "Hi, I feel terrible." Even though regularly feeling terrible is one of the many reasons I need therapy, duh. IDK, I just always feel like there's some obvious cheat code to not feeling terrible (or whatever issue I am struggling with) and everyone else has it but me.
Re-reported my broken heat, as the thermostat looked like this today around noon. I kind of lost my temper and started allcapsing, but ffs the legal low temp in Chicago is 68 during peak hours and 66 at night. Then I went out and reset the circuit breakers and it worked... until now. And now I have to do it all over again. Was gonna take my computer apart today to maybe clean it out but felt too blah and cold for that. Supposedly tomorrow they're also coming to exterminate bugs.
Before I go, have some more Undertale fic. I did not write much and what I did write ended up being ...not what I wanted to happen, and I'm not sure if my dissatisfaction stems from my general bad mood today or because it is genuinely bad, so I'm holding off editing it out. But anyway, this is from before, when I think I was writing decent stuff. Again, this starts up where I left off yesterday.
"It's not that simple," she says. "They have this kid."
"What?" I am baffled. I've never met him, but the Flower does not strike me as the parental type. I don't even think the guy has friends. It's just him and his goons.
"They have this kid," she repeats. She lights up a cigarette, takes a long drag, and sighs, apparently exhausted from a long day of piano and beating people up. Smoke curls out of her nose, mouth, and gills. "The boss doesn't want to just kill 'em all. Collateral damage, you know?" After a thoughtful pause, she adds, "The boss never wants to just kill 'em all."
"Why do they have a kid?" I ask. "Who is this kid?" My burger comes. I pick the sequins out of it. Never liked the taste of sequins.
She shrugs. "Beats me. Must be a pretty special kid if the Flower's willing to play babysitter. Anyway, we're planning on doing a thing next week. We need you to distract the cops."
"What kind of thing?" I ask.
"It's not your kind of thing," she says, quickly. This is also a euphemism. It means "It's gonna be fucking brutal, Sans." Or "You're a useless lump, Sans. Stay out of it."
I can't really be insulted, because that is basically my job description right there. I work hard at being useless. Still, I'm curious. "How do I know what kind of thing it is or isn't if you won't tell me?" I ask. "When you put it like that --" and here I grin for real, because she walked into it "-- it sounds pretty fishy."
"You planning on helping out?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. "Because if not, it's not your kind of thing."
"You kidding? I'm already working my fingers to the bone here. Besides, you said you needed me to serve as a distraction."
"That's right," she says. "The boss wants to see you tomorrow for lunch. Specific instructions, I guess. Twelve-thirty sharp at Il Spag."
"Gotcha."
"Oh, and…" Undyne makes a face. "She wants you two to take the kid, after. Just for a little while, until things settle down."
"What?" I gotta be straight here, I can barely keep a goldfish alive on a good day. Besides, I have my hands full with Papyrus. And the boss is... well, she used to have kids. I thought she missed 'em. "They're taking the kid? Who is this kid?"
Undyne shrugs. "That I don't know. …You gonna turn her down?" She puffs on her cigarette, thoughtfully.
"She's a hard lady to turn down," I say. "What about the big guy, though? Can't he watch the kid?"
"Yeah, he suggested that." Undyne's frown looks like a knife drawer in disarray. "But like you said. She's a hard lady to turn down."