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Friday, November 26:
So I was rushing home from Thanksgiving (with sleepy dogs) because I did need to get some sleep before Black Friday. I got enough to basically keep me safe, and then I was dressed, awake, way too fucking perky, and off to pick up Tif. I realized (just in time, before going to bed) that my earlier plans to wake up at 4am were bad, because I would have to pick her up at 4am. Woops. So I got up at ... it may have been 3:30? And we were off to a Black Friday sale where she'd located an external hard drive that she'd been keeping her eye on for some months, at a 50% discount.
We got there, and there was an epic, epic line, wrapping around the building. It was rather fucking chilly out. We chattered about this and that. She was concerned lest the drives get sold out. I was poking at my phone, and shared an important bit of intelligence: that I was only the third person to check into Foursquare there, which was not a certain thing, but a general indication of the tech level of the line. Tif was amused, as this was the first time Foursquare had been useful for her.
When we got in, she located the drive just fine. We were about to go out, but I said I wanted to poke around. I located a display of promising-looking electronics, and had an instant moral dilemma. It was within the little stretch of my budget, and would provide me with a substantial amount of entertainment for some time. So I did wind up getting myself a tiny, portable-sized, TV.
The crowd was actually not as screamingly horrific as I would have thought. There were a bunch of people, but I was propped up on caffeine and nervous energy, and they weren't pushing or screaming or broadcasting bad vibes, so I was able to go with the flow and not become hypervigilant. And then we headed home.
The rest of the day was split between napping, seeing to the dogs, and various internetty pursuits, including the watching of old MythBusters episodes (hooray for Netflix).
I went to bed at a decent hour, but to find the poodle in the bed where I was supposed to be. I ousted the poodle. He looked affronted, then trotted upstairs.
I was well on my way to sleep within ten minutes, which was about the time the poodle saw, heard, smelled, or telepathically felt something, and decided that it was worthy of a full-on barking explosion of panic. I leaped from the bed, aware that I did not have a bonky flashlight to hurt anything with, and feeling this lack keenly. Only when I was in the entry hall looking about me with general panic for a possible intruder did it occur to me that why yes, Mr. Poodle often does just randomly explode for reasons like a cat walking through the yard.
Mr. Poodle came tearing downstairs, saw me, started smiling, and then came over and WAGGED AT MY BED.
I cannot suspect Mr. Poodle of pretending to freak out for the sole purpose of waking me up, but I would not put it past him to work himself up into a tizzy on purpose.
Saturday, November 27
It rained. The dogs were not sure what to make of me writing vigorously like that.
I drank something very, very blue:
Sunday, November 28
I may have been hung over from the blue stuff. My aunt and uncle came home, with relatives in tow. I escaped back home quietly. My word count was not so good. I did, however, set my hair on fire a little bit.
Monday, November 29
Writing.
Tuesday, November 30
I already covered that chaos. Hot damn.
So I was rushing home from Thanksgiving (with sleepy dogs) because I did need to get some sleep before Black Friday. I got enough to basically keep me safe, and then I was dressed, awake, way too fucking perky, and off to pick up Tif. I realized (just in time, before going to bed) that my earlier plans to wake up at 4am were bad, because I would have to pick her up at 4am. Woops. So I got up at ... it may have been 3:30? And we were off to a Black Friday sale where she'd located an external hard drive that she'd been keeping her eye on for some months, at a 50% discount.
We got there, and there was an epic, epic line, wrapping around the building. It was rather fucking chilly out. We chattered about this and that. She was concerned lest the drives get sold out. I was poking at my phone, and shared an important bit of intelligence: that I was only the third person to check into Foursquare there, which was not a certain thing, but a general indication of the tech level of the line. Tif was amused, as this was the first time Foursquare had been useful for her.
When we got in, she located the drive just fine. We were about to go out, but I said I wanted to poke around. I located a display of promising-looking electronics, and had an instant moral dilemma. It was within the little stretch of my budget, and would provide me with a substantial amount of entertainment for some time. So I did wind up getting myself a tiny, portable-sized, TV.
The crowd was actually not as screamingly horrific as I would have thought. There were a bunch of people, but I was propped up on caffeine and nervous energy, and they weren't pushing or screaming or broadcasting bad vibes, so I was able to go with the flow and not become hypervigilant. And then we headed home.
The rest of the day was split between napping, seeing to the dogs, and various internetty pursuits, including the watching of old MythBusters episodes (hooray for Netflix).
I went to bed at a decent hour, but to find the poodle in the bed where I was supposed to be. I ousted the poodle. He looked affronted, then trotted upstairs.
I was well on my way to sleep within ten minutes, which was about the time the poodle saw, heard, smelled, or telepathically felt something, and decided that it was worthy of a full-on barking explosion of panic. I leaped from the bed, aware that I did not have a bonky flashlight to hurt anything with, and feeling this lack keenly. Only when I was in the entry hall looking about me with general panic for a possible intruder did it occur to me that why yes, Mr. Poodle often does just randomly explode for reasons like a cat walking through the yard.
Mr. Poodle came tearing downstairs, saw me, started smiling, and then came over and WAGGED AT MY BED.
I cannot suspect Mr. Poodle of pretending to freak out for the sole purpose of waking me up, but I would not put it past him to work himself up into a tizzy on purpose.
Saturday, November 27
It rained. The dogs were not sure what to make of me writing vigorously like that.
I drank something very, very blue:
Sunday, November 28
I may have been hung over from the blue stuff. My aunt and uncle came home, with relatives in tow. I escaped back home quietly. My word count was not so good. I did, however, set my hair on fire a little bit.
Monday, November 29
Writing.
Tuesday, November 30
I already covered that chaos. Hot damn.
