(no subject)

[phosfate]

Nothing really worth writing about. It's that time of the year when sane people stay inside and read, because there's fuck all on TV, and being outside can knock you loopy in short order. (Seriously -- I went out Wednesday night for groceries. It was 7:00 p.m., and the official bank clock temperature was 99 degrees.) My fascinating tales of doing laundry and nipping out for gallons of milk must, sadly, remain unrecorded.

Tomorrow is, of course, the last Pottersday ever. This means more hermitage, since the fuckers have gotten much to heavy to carry around. I hauled Goblet of Fire with me in a Toy Story lunch kit, attempting to read it while Mom looked for clothes at the mall, and ended up with a hurt shoulder.

I kind of miss her forcing me to drive her to B&N to get copies for Grant and Jordan "In case they run out," even though my own had just come in the mail (and she'd refused to pre-order hers from Amazon like a sensible person), and of course B&N wasn't going to run out. You can't buy that kind of dopey irony.

And of course she made me carry the books, because she was teeny.

Comments

[theodicy.livejournal.com]

See, she was just making sure you appreciated the experience.

Sigh.

Yeah, I know. It's been hottern dogpiss here too. Miss Woo and I sit at home and grumble. If it's bearable we might go to the duckpond later.

Might.

Or we might go to Bored-ers and watch the freaks.

[nitasee.livejournal.com]

It's going to be raining here. Cats and dogs and other small mammals, so I think it's a good day to stay home and read. And wait for UPS to deliver the book and me to mug the delivery guy. Let's just hope my book gets here, well, dry.