I need an icon of tired.
Have done about two-thirds of the stuff listed on the Scary Post of Weekend Over-Endeavo(u)ring, including almost all of the cooking and almost none of the desk/writing. (Except for backed-up comments, which I've made some headway on. Otherwise, I have been avoiding the whole play-with-words thing like the plague. This bears thinking about - some other time, when zombies have not stolen my brainz.) Have listened to Yo-Yo Ma and Thomas Newman and a sampler of swing artists and the Brook Street Band (thank you, briarhill). Have essayed obtaining all of s2 of Murphy's Law from a certain anti-'stache fangrrl who shall remain nameless; have been only marginally successful due apparently to failure to pay some mysterious tariff to the downloading ogres, but am persevering nonetheless.
Am now going to treat itchy sweaty dusty self to shower, dinner (enchiladas, fresh green pepper from my CSA, and chilled chai for dessert), my current ep of Midsomer Murders (because that nagging Netflix guilt has set in good and proper), and bed, in pretty much that order. Perhaps the wordbrain will be working in the morning.
Good night, all. If you do anything entertainingly wicked, remember to post pictures.
(PS: GIP, courtesy of thediva_laments, who enables me in a wide and possibly illegal variety of ways. The code for hearts was invented for her.)
Am now going to treat itchy sweaty dusty self to shower, dinner (enchiladas, fresh green pepper from my CSA, and chilled chai for dessert), my current ep of Midsomer Murders (because that nagging Netflix guilt has set in good and proper), and bed, in pretty much that order. Perhaps the wordbrain will be working in the morning.
Good night, all. If you do anything entertainingly wicked, remember to post pictures.
(PS: GIP, courtesy of thediva_laments, who enables me in a wide and possibly illegal variety of ways. The code for hearts was invented for her.)