Went live on the phones. Did buddy calls with hcolleen. Answered some questions, solved some problems, educated some users, freaked the hell out with massive, massive stage fright.

Came home, determined that the office people were no longer in the office and therefore I should leave a note, which I shall do this morning, and then went on a massive cleaning spree, interspersed with computer stuff and supper. Called places about Hermione-cat. Vacuumed. Took a reasonably large bag of stuff down to the laundry room.

Today I learned (I'm not sure if it was for the first time or not) that no matter how well someone gets along with me, energy-wise, things still don't work out well if I'm strung the hell out and having my professional face on and they touch me with great sympathy. The effect is sort of like unexpected light socketing with a nice wet hand. (One of the very few people to actually get away with something like this is Darkside, because he knows how to somehow match the note that my soul sings. That makes it so that I can barely tell that it's him and not me, sometimes. For every rule, there is an exception. He is it for many.)

We need kitty litter. I need to refuel before work. We need to stop by the Temple of Doom after work; the one right by work works, right? Good timing there; beat the horrible worst of the rush.

Cleaning up bathroom, found something that should have been more definitively thrown out. Was about to take out trash when an idea struck me, one of those Absolutely Right ones.

Maybe a year ago, Votania was stitching Tarot deck bags, and made one bag that was not only too small, but with nasty, troublesome energy in it, energy that made certain that the only things you'd put in there would be things that you never wanted to see or show up again.

I grinned, stuffed the object in the Trouble Bag, wrapped it up tightly, carried it over to Marx. We clasped hands around it, and chanted, "Sow this no more; reap this no more", until it was done, then enlisted the aid of Nephew, and all threw it, with great energy, in the trash can.

I took out the trash.

of old friends, old spells, old covens. We never Circled in person, IRL, but this is what could have been had we known each other face to face for lengths of time rather than over distance ... this is what could have been had we all been witches. I think the Lady E was there. Old friends I don't remember having. We hung out at a place my mind identified as Metrocenter, I with a huge long wheeled cooler filled full of my clothes. I had to be careful, sleeping, because the Arcata police would bust me and tell me to move along.

Somehow the mall overlooked the willow field from my Alaskan home. We stood there under the stars, talking about brews. That one, someone, Kim's? Kim's??? mother had made up for us: we called it Black Magic. I think it contained lanolin? Only I had loved Shawn IRL. I think I was echoing Pyro, for the Lady E and I certainly never both loved Shawn.

The best way to cool down from an anger, I explained to them, was to start at the top and coast your way down like a roller coaster car, not getting off the tracks, stopping at the bottom.

Someone, my husband (?!?!?!) was entering drawings in the fair. The Fairbanks one, of course. Gave him some helpful hints on how to best coordinate a massive entry spree like the one he was going to do. Many childhood memories recycled.

Odd dream to have. Very odd.