(no subject)
I'm off to the land of cartoon mice and instant five-year-oldness at ridonkulous o'clock tomorrow morning. Which is a complete sort of yay - or it will be if I can somehow manage to force my mother to not have a panic attack in the airport and turn tail and run at the sight of the airplane.
Then again, we have Xanax. It'll be fine.
I'll be back on the 18th (and probably a bit here and there in the in between, because I cannot resist) highly freckled and with actual time on my hands to do fun, writey-shaped things. Which I approve of, I really do.
And I'm totally not going to ponder the logistics of Sam and Dean exorcising the Haunted Mansion with my brother the entire way there.
... really I'm not.
(The fact that I know the whole script to the ride should not be giving me really bad ideas.)
Then again, we have Xanax. It'll be fine.
I'll be back on the 18th (and probably a bit here and there in the in between, because I cannot resist) highly freckled and with actual time on my hands to do fun, writey-shaped things. Which I approve of, I really do.
And I'm totally not going to ponder the logistics of Sam and Dean exorcising the Haunted Mansion with my brother the entire way there.
... really I'm not.
(The fact that I know the whole script to the ride should not be giving me really bad ideas.)