It's raining outside. There is no porchy type thing around the building. You, the smoker, stand at the door, contemplating the angle of the rain, find the side of the building that it isn't hitting *quite* as hard, then duck under a three inch wide rain gutter. Everything but the hand holding the cigarette gets soaked.
You are *fine* with that. This, you consider a *success*.
isilya is destroying what's left of my inhibitions. I have never been so scared of my own head in my life.
xoverau? If you are online tonight, AIM me? I have a favor to ask.
In three weeks, I will own the QaF season three DVDs. I plan to get to *watch* them, in order, straight through, as SOON as I get to finish watched the QaFUK, which I have gotten through exactly one ep, because miraculously, when I sit down to watch TV, everyone and their puppy and coworker needs something. I may need two weekends for this.
Even better, I get to skip lightly over every single instance of Ethan.
In other, less interesting news, I'm looking vaguely at Valentine's Day. I have, so far, managed, by sheer blind luck, to only be dating once. This once, the boy in question gave me my white cat, who was the most perfect cat in creation and hated everyone but me and got huge. He told me the story of jogging over all of Austin in the middle of February, looking for someone who had pure white kittens. I got him an iguana. I told him about looking for the most active of seven sleeping iguanas.
When you look at my expectations of Valentine's Day, you really have to wonder what I absorbed over childhood, that I don't think automatically of chocolate, but of wildlife. Hmm.
Must. Write. Fic. At least a page.