She's dribing me bonkers. Separation issues, major.
I can't get anything done. need to work and she's a limpet on my left hand and wrist.
help.
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
She's dribing me bonkers. Separation issues, major.
I can't get anything done. need to work and she's a limpet on my left hand and wrist.
help.
Damn that wonked-up biological clock of mine, it wants a kitten.
That doesn't sound wonky to me, connie.
My torty also believes typing time is time to PLAY! All thast works is physically removing her from the room (and then she stands at the door and yowls, but hey, I can type.)
Both of my cats have become convinced that the laptop is their enemy, and will try to protect me from it at all costs.
My cats use my laptop to scratch at their jowls. I'm pretty sure they're leaving scent marks that will cause any strange cat to attack my laptop with ferocity. Maybe I should see if I can get some built in anti-cat repellent installed.
I'm pretty sure they're leaving scent marks that will cause any strange cat to attack my laptop with ferocity.
Sail, are you bringing your laptop to Denver? If so, we'll be able to test your theory.
Possible good times.
And then to Belmont.
Ooh, scientific experiments! Maybe I can get the goverment to fund my vacation? Hee.
The Other Side drabble
Inside, it’s like a tunnel. Dark, just as musty and grimy as the Lincoln. A tunnel is not someplace you want to stay. It’s supposed to be a through-point, a way to cut through the water, the mountain, the immoveable obstacle.
Until you get stuck. Until idling in the dark begins to feel like the only possible thing to do. Until breathing in the damp and feeling the skin of soot on your clothes is almost comforting.
There’s supposed to be light on the other side. Knowing that isn’t the same as believing it. Sometimes the tunnel is the obstacle.