dragonlady7

So the water heater installation guys' other job for today was on a rooftop, and given the sustained winds of 30mph with gusts up to almost 60, and the three-inch layer of impenetrable ice frozen from slush on every single surface in the world, they opted to do our nice safe basement job instead.
I can't imagine doing a rooftop ANYTHING in the winter, but ESPECIALLY not on a day like today; I almost got blown down the driveway when I ran out in my clogs to move Dude's car so I could drive mine. Clogs got no grip, and so when I planted my feet not to get blown over, the bulk of my whole self kinda caught the wind like a sail and I was like welp here I go. I didn't fall, I seem to have really good balance despite all of *waves hand at self* this and my inability to consistently remember that I live in a physical reality, but that's mostly just practice and muscle memory. I definitely traveled down that driveway at a clip I had not intended.

(I was glad not to be walking, an hour or so later.)

(As I had anticipated, I dozed off on the couch at about 5:30, and then Chita woke me up at 6, 6:15, and 6:30, so I got up and moved the car and made coffee, and I'll be a fucking zombie today.)

Dude and I discussed it; he slept a little better last night because he's sort of burned out on being anxious about the wind, but I apparently have an infinite capacity to be fucking anxious. He was like "yeah I worry about things blowing away" and I was like "I have formless heart-racing anxiety about everything and the only relief is that it's so bad I don't actually have time to worry about the things I normally constantly worry about [social injustice, nuclear war, my own economic precariousness, mean things someone said to me in fifth grade, that sort of thing] so honestly just panicking constantly about nothing is kind of a relief" and he was like "gurl" so. I did get a hug this morning, at least, though i wasn't expecting it because that's not his style but he was clearly quite tenderly concerned for me. Aw. (I was in the middle of something and did not understand what he was trying to do and nearly smacked into him and it was the most awkward hug ever but it was very sweet.)

Oh speaking of getting a poor night's sleep, yesterday my coworker came in and confessed he'd slept very little because he'd been up half the night in a Wikipedia spiral. Guess what it was about! You'll never guess.

Did Jim Morrison (of the Doors)'s Father Start The Vietnam War? The answer may surprise you!

That's the closest I've come to a shitpost all month and it's not even properly a shitpost! Though, sometimes I feel that's really the thing that distinguishes a stellar shitpost, when the absurd nonsequitur turns out not to be.

It's my Nameday today, which isn't something I grew up caring about, but Dude's family are Baltic and it's a Thing for them. They're like a mini birthday-- it's the day on the saint's calendar corresponding to the saint you're named for, right? So. Anyway, it's handy for people whose birthdays are ill-timed (like Dude, on New Year's Eve)-- and I've been meaning for years to hold a party on my own nameday, because what better time to have a party than today? Nobody's up to anything this time of year, and it's cold so you might as well party, right??
But I have never had a house suitable for hosting parties, and nothing else has ever worked out, so.

So no Nameday party for me. But I think that ice cream joint finally opened up after being lazy useless nothing lumps for the entire blizzard, in my hours of need, so in the afternoon I'm going to find out, and maybe finally fulfill my terrible ongoing ice cream craving. (Last night I was having heartburn before bed and had to eat something but there was nothing in the house. Dude clearly felt similarly, and seemed delighted to eat a bunch of tortilla chips, of all the heathen degeneracy; he has no regrets about us not having any ice cream in the house, and cannot be trusted to look out for my interests, if he can eat Tostitos Hint of Lime tortilla chips for dessert. Ugh!)

(I like Tostitos Hint Of Lime, I bought them myself. But not for dessert.)

At any rate.

I've wasted rather a bit of time indulging myself in writing a tiny bit of fic, sort of? for Uprooted, and I present to you probably the only worthwhile chunk of the whole piece, which is Sarkan writing a treatise on Do As I Say, Not As I Do, or Why You Shouldn't ( i guess cut for spoilers ). At any rate, here's the snippet.

She was young enough to still be coltish and awkward; my tastes had, in the days when I still had them, always run toward self-possessed, mature women. I had never understood what glamor the idea of an innocent, teenaged mistress held for powerful men, and to this day I still rather darkly suspect that much of it is not any dewy bloom of youth-- genuinely, you tell me an immature child of sixteen, barely pubescent and not yet at her full growth, is somehow intrinsically more beautiful than that same woman would be at twenty-five, or thirty, in her prime, grown into all her features, secure in her faculties, with her tastes fully developed, discerning and competent? This is not an objective assessment by any criteria!-- so much as it is the knowledge that a very young woman won’t know any better than to be dazzled by whatever mediocre wit an older man can muster.

I may or may not ever publish the rest of it, I clearly just needed to work that out. Also note with my ages, above, this is a story set in a kind of pseudo-medieval High Fantasy kind of setting, so not only is menarche a bit later, so is old age a little earlier, so.

ok i have to do some work so I can justify taking that lunch break to finally fucking eat ice cream

don't worry shitpost february I'll do you justice but here's my contribution until then