Should I devote the next few hours of my life to rereading Freak Camp, or doing some work on my BB, or shoveling out the crud that has accumulated in my house? Pleasure, or pain?
I don't have tomorrow because I am once again roped into the Superbowl Extravaganza. Fuck, I hate football unless it's wrapped up in a fanfic featuring Jared and Jensen. How can people not get that I am so uninterested, that anymore disinterest on my part and I would be a dead roxy? My portly little cadaver parked in front of a too-big TV, clutching a plate of nachos in my stiffened paw...my expression wouldn't be any different in my death-by-boredom state than it normally is on superbowl day.
My house...I've given up on this joint. Love me, love the strings of dust that waft gently in the breeze you make by walking. I've almost managed to convince everyone that grime is healthy for you. No need to use all that anti-bac shit if your body is building up immunities by constantly fighting off the germs happily growing on every surface.
I wish I was kidding....
I am working on my BB, though. I've cleaned off the desk, laid on a few fresh note pads, rearranged my minis in a pleasing configuration, parked my tiny Impala catty-corner to my lamp, bought fresh coffee and cleaned out the one-shot coffee maker, one of those old-style Black & Deckers from the 90s, when K-cups were just a gleam in someone's over-caffeinated eye. It's just like me--still works, even if it's a little cranky and kinda hit-and- miss. I need some inspiration, though. I'll need to print out some pics of our boys. Possibly look up some porn for scenes I'll never actually write. That is my MO.
So, here's hoping I'll see ya'll tomorrow night, after the
Nah, y'know what? I choose Freak Camp.