Nausea. Do you have within your state of being, nausea, in all of your totality of our shared experience together even one hundred words to put up on the boards tonight? Can you offer up just fifty words even? Because we are working on a bit of a fire sale this evening. We will take any and all comers, any and all offers. Wherever the words want to arrive from, they are welcomed here. That’s not how I mean to say it.
Puking. I don’t really ever do it. Talk about a first world problem. But it’s true. I can probably count on both times the vomit comet burst forth to zero astronomical interest. I feel rather bubbly on an internal level right now. Anxious on caffeine counts as well as being jump out of my skin excited and having spent the day poking at a plate of nachos as my major source of sustenance. That and sour cream icing-coated doughnut holes. Because when you want to feel shitty, you want to do it right. (I don’t want to feel shitty, I just want to eat shitty and drily bitch about the consequences.)
What I need is…what I need is to get the sheets in the washing machine moved to the dryer.
I did finish Dragon Age today! Didn’t get all of those last little quests cleaned up because, holy hell, I have some sense. And as I was traipsing around the Wastes, nobody said a damn thing. I have, clearly, pulled myself away from Thedas and an awful Civ V game because I did want to make use of some of this dead time before the clock strikes midnight somewhere and I’m assuming (possibly to my detriment and ultimate anger and despair) that the DLC I am so anxious for will be able to be downloaded.
That was much of the day, though, aside from my best attempt at carnitas nachos. They were fine, they were just missing something – or like most of my problems, a bit half-baked. There’s something about a broiler that makes me nervous. (I know, breathing makes me nervous.) But you see a few strands of smoke curl out of the oven and you think, okay, I have exactly 2 seconds before I have a plate of charred and burnt up nachos to deal with. So out I pulled the tray and things were melted as you’d assume, but not bubbly and globby and there weren’t any chips that had even started to brown. But the game was calling, and my suffering due to the game, so I called it good. It makes a difference, the absence of those brown chips in your home nachos situation, just as an FYI.
And intermittently, I hear the downstairs neighbor dude-bro-ing it up below whilst I game away. Strange to be so embedded in a world and just a few yards below, if that, to hear a conversation from someone who has no idea you just killed a dragon.
Sort of the story of my life.