It's my birthday and I'll snore if I want to--
Yup. It's my birthday. I should go to Baycon and hang out for a few hours. I'm tired. How do all those statements interrelate?
I dunno (which I at first typed "dummo"). I'm too tired to figure it out.
Of course, the day was not without its drama. The gate to the back yard sometimes does not fully latch. When I woke up this morning, I was surrounded by cats (even Fudge, who got her summer shave yesterday and was feeling clingy). Gary had already gone to work leaving the kitchen door ajar as per usual so the cats could come and go at will. By the time I got out of the shower and dressed, there was nary a cat to be seen and the back gate was wide open.
I found Fudge waiting patiently by the front door, bless her little heart. She's not up for huge adventures. But Pancake was gone. I wandered around and looked for him as the absolute last second I could leave and still get up to SF in time for my final approached. No sign. Little brat.
I called Gary, who grabbed at the excuse to come home. No, seriously, he did. He hates his job. Then I shut Fudge in the house and piled in the car, leaving the gate open in case he decided to come back home on his own.
Just before I hit 280, I got a phone call, and yes, I answered it. In the car. This was an emergency. Except it wasn't. Pancake was waiting for Gary by the kitchen door, and acting inordinately pleased with himself. Little brat. At least I didn't have to worry about him during the final. Which went okay. Better than the E&M final, anyway.
So I could go to the con, but I still have manuscripts to critique and I am dead tired. Tomorrow. (And tomorrow, and tommorrow.... Hi, dreambrother! Yeah, wrong play, but it's still Shakespeare!)
I dunno (which I at first typed "dummo"). I'm too tired to figure it out.
Of course, the day was not without its drama. The gate to the back yard sometimes does not fully latch. When I woke up this morning, I was surrounded by cats (even Fudge, who got her summer shave yesterday and was feeling clingy). Gary had already gone to work leaving the kitchen door ajar as per usual so the cats could come and go at will. By the time I got out of the shower and dressed, there was nary a cat to be seen and the back gate was wide open.
I found Fudge waiting patiently by the front door, bless her little heart. She's not up for huge adventures. But Pancake was gone. I wandered around and looked for him as the absolute last second I could leave and still get up to SF in time for my final approached. No sign. Little brat.
I called Gary, who grabbed at the excuse to come home. No, seriously, he did. He hates his job. Then I shut Fudge in the house and piled in the car, leaving the gate open in case he decided to come back home on his own.
Just before I hit 280, I got a phone call, and yes, I answered it. In the car. This was an emergency. Except it wasn't. Pancake was waiting for Gary by the kitchen door, and acting inordinately pleased with himself. Little brat. At least I didn't have to worry about him during the final. Which went okay. Better than the E&M final, anyway.
So I could go to the con, but I still have manuscripts to critique and I am dead tired. Tomorrow. (And tomorrow, and tommorrow.... Hi, dreambrother! Yeah, wrong play, but it's still Shakespeare!)