The big chill.
01.24.03 - 2:53 p.m. It's official. This house is damn fucking cold. Our pipes are froze. There are ice chips in the milk, the fucking toilet-bowl water is frozen; the fucking wet clothes in the washer have frozen to the sides. There are ice chips in my socks. I am less than amused. Going Across Town to run D&D campaign tonight, a whole host of monsters to bubble out of the brain of me, while being assaulted by the slutty diabetic blact-furred gent and fled from by the catankerous, three-legged queen. These are chums of the feline variety, of course. Callie is the cancer-cat who'd been staying with us from before, post-surgery. Anyway. The Fox wants the computer, and I want more ginsing tea. And maybe a flash of warm inspiration, perchance.
0 comments.notation.profile.DW.Quois.Lochinvar.smut.Tambourin.DiaryLand.DeadNazi
|