Okay, people suck.

Somebody hacked the Yuletide archive. Bastards.

Oooh, that sucks.

Though I actually needed to reupload my story any road, but still. That sucks.

Woo! Yuletide story done, surprisingly betaed, and submitted.

Dude, except for some Christmas cards (eep! they'll all be late, I suppose. eh. Can't be arsed) and of course getting to work and the like, I'm done for a whole week and a half! Yay!

...in the midst of which my tens places flips over and I turn 11110. I already got a present from my mother. A $75 gift certificate to a catalog where all I can see that I want is some socks and some long underwear. Well, sometimes you hit, sometimes you miss. I'm just not looking forward to writing the thank-you note.

You write thank you notes to your mother? I am remiss.

Well, not usually, because usually I am in her presence. See, it's either I write her a note or thank her over the phone, and I'm actually really bad at stuff like this on the phone.

You know the best part of finishing my yuletide story? I finally got to send back the Netflix DVD!

... which I suddenly remember I was going to lend to my mother. Aw, crap. Well, some other time.

I uploaded my Yuletide story last night, after helping some other people out with emergency beta services.

I probably shouldn't offer to pinch-hit this year, but I'm considering it. I kind of want to write something that I actually like, instead of something I stare at a bit miserably, and say, "Well, then."

Ah, but you run the risk of having two of the latter instead.

Ah, but you run the risk of having two of the latter instead.

This is why I waffle.

But then again, I tell myself: self, at the very least, you will be able to write someone a story with mostly correct grammar and spelling, and bearing some resemblance to canon, and that's more than some people will get, so perhaps it is worth the mental torture.

Good point. You have me waffling as well.