February 8th, 2005

children of dune - leto 1

(no subject)

Okay, on top of *everything else*--and the everything else boggles the mind--I am sick. I am sick in the way of things that come out from places in ways that they should not come out. Let's just leave it at that, and the roll of paper towels I have decimated. I have brought them *down*.

I am--Jesus, I feel like shit.

Also, I found my Bed. Apparently, being sick is an inspiration to narrow down the bed choices. I'm down to two, and frankly, whichever one my bank acct can afford is the one I will own.

Here's our choices. Both canopy. One metal, thin pipe-like, pretty. I cannot find it right now because hte link is at work and google hates me. It's by someone called Elliot's designs, the name is Manhattan. It has two high points--it looks easy to assemble when it arrives, and it'll pretty much go with anything. Price is around 399.

First bed: link from terpsichoreslyr:


The second one is by Broyhill, at the price of something like 1400, cut down to around 739 at Lacks in Austin.

Surely somewhere on earth, it will be cheaper. please God, let it be cheaper, because I've *sat* on this bed and cuddled this bed (in teh showroom, don't ask) and loved this bed. It's the one at the top in the corner, dark wood, all pretty and mine mine mine. I want thsi bed. And sickness contributes towards longing, and Linens and Things is having a sale on a bed-in-a-bag that would fit this so perfectly I could cry. Well, my nose is red and peeling. I am crying everytime I blow it.


See? Pretty.

I *want*. And come tax return, along with a mattress (christ, have you seen teh prices on those things?) one of these will be mine.


Okay, no, this is still self-pity, but it's the kind that's useful. Anyone--anyone at all--have some snippet they would love to see me write? Dont' say Pretty When You're Mine-- I don't post until I've written two sections ahead so I don't make really weird mistakes, and I'm only a section and a half ahead right now. But pretty much everything else is up for grabs. Give me an idea, something. I just need positive reinforcement and lacking that, cold syrup, the narcotic kind.

Also, excessive love to nonchop--seh sent me chocolate that arrived while I was wailing about end times when my nose began it's faucet thing. I love you. I love you so much. I mean, beyond the English language to comprehend.

Um. Yeah. It's that or updating my recs page again, and I'm going to need to split SVslash one day--it's just getting really frighteningly long. How many stories do I have there anyway? Cause I'm adding another fifty soon. And that's a lot.

My nose hurts. Its red and peeling and so gross. I am going back to teh chocolate and whimpering in teh pillow. For my bed.

This is so pathetic I'm almost ashamed to post. but not really.