Happy birthday, Steph!
Thanks, everybody! 42 is pretty good, other than the migraine that developed out of the hangover, which, admittedly, I brought on myself. I think I caught it early enough that drugs are dialing it way down. And it didn't keep me home or anything; I managed to go out to my mom's for dinner and Graeter's.
A perfect birthday present would be for the stabbing sensation in my face to go the hell away. (And, if possible, for the dog to stop farting like death from 3 feet away. THAT IS NO GIFT KATO.)
Leaping to the end:
I may have a new goal for Ryan's upbringing:
The worshipers of Khorne are a lively bunch.
Happy bday!
Loki is doing the reverse of icing; he's resting his chin on the power supply. Eh, if it feels good, I guess.
Happy Birthday! Good times are Good! May the stabby dial down promptly.
Am old. Apparently one of my classmates just became principal of my HS.
"I would like a job that pays me money and keeps me busy so I don't spend the ENTIRE day fucking around on the internet getting nothing done. I would like to feel vaguely as though I am able to accomplish something, without having that something interfere too much with my strenuous internet needs"
Which is whacked because that was the first time I decided to lock my door at night. I'm secure and suddenly I'm terrified of home invasion. Unsecure I sleep like I'm in a coma.
This is one of the reasons I have a roommate. When there is another person in the house, my subconscious assigns all random noises to them, and I sleep fine. When there is not, suddenly any noise I hear is someone COMING TO KILL ME. ...I have no idea why my brain is convinced that's going to happen (so far 35 years, no one has broken into the house to kill me), or why someone else being in the house would somehow STOP that, but...yeah.
