There are so many really *cool* ways to spend your birthday, but I chose laying in bed with a romance novel and cinnamon schnapps and coffee up until a few minutes ago. And frozen Patio enchiladas. Horrifyingly addictive badfood.

Also, I added more to How It's Gonna Be.

In all fairness, I actually have written a lot on it, but unfortunately, I went non-linear, which was a bad idea and I knew it, even though it seemed like a good idea at the time. I write straight through. Skipping a scene assures that scene will not be written, and so forth. I kept thinking I'd write *up* to that scene, then be comfortable posting, but that didn't happen. Oh well.

Anyway. The melodramatic adventure continues apace. For those who have completely forgotten....

( cliff notes )

Caught up?

Right. Onward, then.

( how it's gonna be, more )

I honestly at this point have to wonder what the hell I think I'm doing.

Less melodrama. More drugs. They make everything better. I should apply this to my life. I swear, I'd be much happier, if less well-adjusted.

( ...yep, that's right, more )

And this is where I had to go take my antibiotics. And fell asleep.

( and...more stuff )

My only excuse is that this entire general-exhaustion thing has left me completely unable to do anything that requires actual movement other than my fingers. And shame is really, really outdated. Retro, even.

( the melodrama continues! )

You all get why I don't often make icons now, right?



Well, I gave it a week and my nose is still doing revolting things I won't discuss, the congestion won't end, and nausea's added for reasons I won't go into for any reason short of imminent death, and only messy death. Headache on fourth day straight Four fifteen appointment. Yay me.

So of course, after taking enough sudafed to cause poisoning in small experimental rodents, I spent time this morning in socks, ugly polyester pajama bottoms and wrote.

Slowly, the snail pounds through the snow and molasses wilderness.

( and the story continues )

Withdrawal set in when my ISP went down for HOURS. I cannot even begin to describe the blank, unending void of my existence when life as I knew it was snuffed out....

Say it with me.

You really need to get out more, chica.

I will! You know, when I have my Saturdays free again. Apparently, and this is just speculation, bosses sort of frown upon their employees coming in Saturday morning in less than relatively good condition. Strange, strange people.

QaF

For amusement value, those four or five who are reading this little, idiotic, won't-fucking-get-to-the-point story that refuses to do anything....

I. Hate. This. Story. The sheer amount of melodrama I'm contemplating scares me badly. But in a fiendishly evil way, not a run for cover way, because well, I just looked at the line up for fall, and there are three, count 'em, three shows I want to watch. That's just sad.

But anyway.

For those interested, because I always forget to memory these things, all earlier parts can be found here.

It moves like a snail. The runt snail. The snail so slow the other snails mock him. All the time.

( and more Qafness, 5 )

Continued from part 1.

( more of qafness )