April 17th, 2007

children of dune - leto 1

the time has come


The thing about having a skin reaction is that it's not visible at all, to anyone. At least, besides that attractive freshly-sunburned look that comes and goes, there was no peeling or blistering or striations or turning purple. At least that would be interesting. But no. I get boring allergic reactions. Boring ones tht are fairly invisible, so everyone and their puppy regularly forgets that I'm wearing a sweater in April while I sweat for a reason. It is please, in the name of God, unless you want to see me wince and make sad noises, or alternately, bring my heel down on your foot in ways that you will remember for many years, DO NOT TOUCH ME.

I never realy comprehended quite this intimately how *much* people touch. Slap on the back--let us never speak of those--grabbing upper arms, pats on the shoulder--adn then quick apologies, and seriously, wearing gray sweater of maximum coverage of my skin and humankind. Breezes could be awkward. DO NOT TOUCH.

It's basically annoyance-grade misery. Not serious, just freakishly inconvenient in the laying down and sitting and whimpering way, in that I could not do the first two well adn the third I did pretty constantly. Plus, suddenly, Waffles wanted affection.

(Waffles, to those new here, is my rabbit. It's a very long story. It starts last February. No, I didn't name him myself. It still hurts me inside to type that name.)

So Waffles, whose fur is awesomely soft except when you are having a skin reaction, then it is sandpaper crawls onto any surface area he can get. It was fairly traumatizing. I won't say he looked like he was trying to see if I would set him free, free, free like the wind in the backyard (though seriously, if he wants to go live in the creek of snakes, crackpipes, and people from ICF houses? Oh baby, you just try) just to make him stop kneading tiny little devil paws into my shoulder or trying to tangle himself in my hair. It's bizarre. And by bizarre, I mean, my pet has been possessed.

...it's sad that my thought right now is suddenly, I wonder if Christo works on rabbits?

Right, the reason for this entry: I'll be catching up on all email and sundry today and tomorrow from the stuff I've basically been skipping since last Wednesday, so if I owe you a response, you will get it. Probably. No, likely. And I apologize for any delays that might be caused. OTOH, I bought the entire Mercedes Lackey Valdemar series(es) and have immersed myself in Valdemar while lying about and feeling dreadfully sorry for myself. Will have stunned book reports detailing how much Firesong annoyed me, why I think Vanyel shold have been allowed to die because Jesus, this woman could totally be an angst h/c fanfic writer, and by that, I mean the scary ones that I can't read anymore because I always break down in tears and swollen eyes are not only unattractive but make it hard to see. TRAINWRECK. Which is why I won't read the Magic's Price books. Too traumatizing. Well, not now anyway. I have a stack of them and the Sherlocks to work my way through. And the two Dark Tower books left in the series. And these other ones. And re-read Everything's Eventual.

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Randomly: I've been privatizing some posts. None of them are fandom related, mostly personal, mostly stuff I just don't want to look at anymore. So if something vanished that you were looking at--adn the odds of that happening are astronomical--that's why.

Okay, off to do work, catch up, drink monkey-tea--yes, I bought the trained-monkey picked tea, adn it's oolong by the way (is that spelled correctly)? Still mulling whether it is, in fact, tea that is worthy of trained monkeys.