The Journal of Geraldine Harrington, April 12th, 2005.
Things one cannot do with roses in any sort of constructive fashion: throw them away (someone else fished them out for me, twice). Bung them out the window (again, oh-so-charmingly returned). Feed them down the garbage disposal (it jammed on the third one). Since I'd used all my sulphuric acid on the pit traps, I had to settle for throwing them on my desk and hoping they'd die before Sam saw them. Which is where I found out yet another thing one cannot do with roses in any sort of constructive fashion: leave them on your desk to die whilst hoping that your boyfriend will fail to see them and ask awkward questions, because, well, he did. Thank you, Mister Ritterhaus. Thank you EVER SO MUCH.
I'm not sure it's appropriate to call a man a wanker for being thoughtful and sending a girl roses, but I certainly by-God want to just about now. I shall settle instead for being petulant, and writing this entry in a truly vicious code-key, thus taking out my aggressions on the future archivist who has to decode my journals. Terribly sorry. But rest assured, I'm sure one of your ancestors has vexed one of mine, so really, using encoded Latin forms through a mathematically derived substitution matrix is really just...evening the scales. Honestly.
Fortunately, Sam is more than reasonably sane, as he mostly just wanted to know if he'd sent me roses and then forgotten about them. I assured him that he hadn't, and he followed with commentary regarding the fact that he'd have needed to be very muddled to send me roses at all, as poison things and flowers that eat flesh. Isn't that sweet? In a horrible, terrible, once again my life is being directed from a distance by Wes Craven and I think he's more than reasonably drunk sort of a way?
Our discussion was interrupted by the arrival of a professionally dressed woman who appeared to have girded her loins with the remains of the glacier that once carved its way across Western Europe, and her bevvy of undisguised demons. Yes, demons, yes, appearing in public without any sort of civil concealment, like say, baseball caps and pretense. That was more than marginally unsettling, and we wound up decamping to the house for trap-planning and poker. When in doubt, play cards. Or something along those very, very general lines.
We went out to the End of the Line for potato skins; I couldn't find my vest, and wound up wearing one of my favourite T-shirts for the first time in months, which was a nice change. Ritterhaus was there, playing billiards with a girl name of Jenna, and they were eventually joined by Ronan, while we acquired a sudden surprise Rory, which I suppose means it was a date, as we only mysteriously attract my housemates when we're actually having official couple time. The rest of the time, we sit there alone until someone falls asleep or has to go. So bully for us, we managed a date this month!
Rory had some questions to ask, about the Healys, amongst other things. Why they left the Council. All of that.
They left the Council because we were stupid. I never understood that. And now I do. They left because we were stupid, and because we weren't any better than the things we were fighting, and because they had to. And I don't know whether they were right to go, rather than staying and changing things, and I don't know whether we were right to stay...but I do understand. It's a bit vexing. Sometimes I miss being ignorant.
I ran off home to have dinner with Nadia, and our first meeting as Junior Watcher (me) and Watcher-in-training (her). She's been assigned her Slayer, as I've been assigned mine, and we discussed concerns and potential approaches to the matter, finally settling on, if necessary, the Inferno gambit as a final result. Illyana always did make an ideal role model. We also covered the fact that our children would be either the smartest people in the world or monumentally stupid; she does not have a crush on Justin Timberlake, but 'Resident Evil' could be a bonding experience between the two of us; Ribena is a wonderful thing; and so on. It's going to be a pleasure working with her, I can see that already.
Nadia had barely cleared out when Iggy showed up, needing a spot of friend-time and reassuring about the whole 'maybe I will melt all my friends into an undifferentiated pink goo'. I provided both, with a side-order of telling her about the whole Watcher thing, and some hugs. Neither of us is enormously huggy, but still, it's occasionally a good way of expressing affection.
She's gone downstairs to nap on the couch before heading home. Sam's not here yet -- I may not see him 'til tomorrow, when we go off to fight -- and so I'm just going to go to bed, take my pills, and pretend to sleep.
Hope those traps work well enough.
Hope to see the weekend.
I'm not sure it's appropriate to call a man a wanker for being thoughtful and sending a girl roses, but I certainly by-God want to just about now. I shall settle instead for being petulant, and writing this entry in a truly vicious code-key, thus taking out my aggressions on the future archivist who has to decode my journals. Terribly sorry. But rest assured, I'm sure one of your ancestors has vexed one of mine, so really, using encoded Latin forms through a mathematically derived substitution matrix is really just...evening the scales. Honestly.
Fortunately, Sam is more than reasonably sane, as he mostly just wanted to know if he'd sent me roses and then forgotten about them. I assured him that he hadn't, and he followed with commentary regarding the fact that he'd have needed to be very muddled to send me roses at all, as poison things and flowers that eat flesh. Isn't that sweet? In a horrible, terrible, once again my life is being directed from a distance by Wes Craven and I think he's more than reasonably drunk sort of a way?
Our discussion was interrupted by the arrival of a professionally dressed woman who appeared to have girded her loins with the remains of the glacier that once carved its way across Western Europe, and her bevvy of undisguised demons. Yes, demons, yes, appearing in public without any sort of civil concealment, like say, baseball caps and pretense. That was more than marginally unsettling, and we wound up decamping to the house for trap-planning and poker. When in doubt, play cards. Or something along those very, very general lines.
We went out to the End of the Line for potato skins; I couldn't find my vest, and wound up wearing one of my favourite T-shirts for the first time in months, which was a nice change. Ritterhaus was there, playing billiards with a girl name of Jenna, and they were eventually joined by Ronan, while we acquired a sudden surprise Rory, which I suppose means it was a date, as we only mysteriously attract my housemates when we're actually having official couple time. The rest of the time, we sit there alone until someone falls asleep or has to go. So bully for us, we managed a date this month!
Rory had some questions to ask, about the Healys, amongst other things. Why they left the Council. All of that.
They left the Council because we were stupid. I never understood that. And now I do. They left because we were stupid, and because we weren't any better than the things we were fighting, and because they had to. And I don't know whether they were right to go, rather than staying and changing things, and I don't know whether we were right to stay...but I do understand. It's a bit vexing. Sometimes I miss being ignorant.
I ran off home to have dinner with Nadia, and our first meeting as Junior Watcher (me) and Watcher-in-training (her). She's been assigned her Slayer, as I've been assigned mine, and we discussed concerns and potential approaches to the matter, finally settling on, if necessary, the Inferno gambit as a final result. Illyana always did make an ideal role model. We also covered the fact that our children would be either the smartest people in the world or monumentally stupid; she does not have a crush on Justin Timberlake, but 'Resident Evil' could be a bonding experience between the two of us; Ribena is a wonderful thing; and so on. It's going to be a pleasure working with her, I can see that already.
Nadia had barely cleared out when Iggy showed up, needing a spot of friend-time and reassuring about the whole 'maybe I will melt all my friends into an undifferentiated pink goo'. I provided both, with a side-order of telling her about the whole Watcher thing, and some hugs. Neither of us is enormously huggy, but still, it's occasionally a good way of expressing affection.
She's gone downstairs to nap on the couch before heading home. Sam's not here yet -- I may not see him 'til tomorrow, when we go off to fight -- and so I'm just going to go to bed, take my pills, and pretend to sleep.
Hope those traps work well enough.
Hope to see the weekend.