The Stars and the Cookie Jar

First porridge of the season, notably. And I finished the container of orange juice, selfishly.
And I like adverbs, apparently.

Last night turned into PTSD Night at the Selkie Cafe. I don't know what happened! I got to sleep all right, but the nightmare was horrible. I woke up with the entire queen-size sheet lumped under my torso -- I thrash a little -- and my aunt banging on my door because I was screaming. It was around three in the morning, and she was not appreciative. I was not speaking English.

Yeah. Blergh. Went back to bed with a whacking headache, and snugged my girl's t-shirt in a pathetic display of pathetitude. Got woken up again four hours later by our friend, Senor Alarm Clock. Am now late for bus, in fact so late that I can sit here and wait for the next bus.

So that makes my nine-hour day an eight-hour day, at least.

Yay?

Oh, make my headache stop.

• perfected mix CD for darthrami
• fed foster brother's fish
• slipped Bast the worm-medicine mickey in her Meow Mix
• worked a 30-hour week in four days
• 225 paltry words of Seal Wife
• two Yiddish translations for abovementioned CD
• fixed cell phone, mostly by means of judicious squishing of battery cover, application of gaff tape
• made pumpkin loaf
• cemented plans for emigrating with fiancee

Yep. Now I just need to remember to print out my confirmation number for tomorrow, and I'm off.