Ugh, cleaning. I've been going through old Christmas/Birthday/whatever cards and trying to decide what to keep and what to throw out. I HATE throwing out cards, but... it's getting kind of ridiculous >.>
I heartily advocate the creation of more Kara/Anders things. Yus.
Yeah. It was part of why I didn't want to go to work. *staggers out, stares at messy apartment, makes whimper noises*
sigh.
Throwing things out/giving them away is hard. I have a whole room to go through, at some point. It's all stuff I don't use, so there's no point in keeping it. But it's hard.
"You know,I don't seem to recall inviting you along," he muses out loud suddenly, staring through the time rotor of the TARDIS's console.
"You didn't," comes the frank response from his erstwhile and somewhat new companion, who's made herself comfortable in the Time Lord's favourite chair while she peruses his current book of poetry (by one T.S. Eliot). Booted feet rest on the Queen Anne coffee table. A wraith of blue-grey smoke drifts upward, her face obscured by the novel. She seems unmoved by his concern. "It was this or listen to that crazy frakhead Baltar go on about his latest scientific 'breakthrough', or deal with Lee and his daddy issues."
The book lowers just enough for her to peer over at the frock-coated nutcase piloting this ship. Her eyes crinkle with what's undoubtedly the beginnings of a deviant grin. "No contest."
He purses his lips for a moment, a frown settling across his Romantic features.
"You didn't have to be quite so ruthless back there, you know."
There's just the slightest roll of her eyes. "Frak that. Those metalheads are no better than the toasters." Pause. Another exhale of smoke. "Actually, they're worse. You said so yourself."
So he did. His mouth flattens into a thin line.
"Well, yes, but that's not the point -- "
He turns to look at her, intent on delivering a stern lecture about the morality of killing, then reminds himself she's in the military, not a civilian. The rules are somewhat different. The book lowers further. Her grin isn't shifting.
"You tell me what the point is, then, hot stuff."
He hates it when she does that. Although, to be honest, the distinct lack of screaming when faced with certain death is a plus. He sighs.
"Did you really have to use one to make that coffee machine?"
She leans forward, the better to look at the pieces of rehashed Dalek that now dutifully serves up something approaching a half-decent cup of coffee on demand. The eyepiece remains intact, glaring balefully at them both from beyond the grave - or wherever it is that dead Daleks go.
"Oh, I dunno. I think it's kinda cute." She wiggles her fingers at it, and snickers. "I used a toaster head for a planter once. The plants died, but y'know, it was the thought that counted."
He regards her thoughtfully for several moments, then reaches out to the console, long slender fingers casually pushing a lever. It takes her a few moments to notice - and by then it's too late - as the TARDIS tilts sideways and effectively rolls Kara Thrace out of the chair with a rather satisfying thud..
"Oop--!"
The corners of the Doctor's mouth twitch upward. "I think, my dear Ms. Thrace, that we need to establish some ground rules..."
Her only response drifts upward from the floor in the form of a grunt.
I wish. I have a job interview this afternoon all the way in freaking downtown STL - at the Wyndham Mayfair - for an outcall massage service.
Only problem w/ that - I pulled a muscle on the left side of my neck last night, so I have like severely limited range of motion and mobility from my head through my shoulder - argh!
I blame the weather for it, since I couldn't go get the free futon on Saturday because of the snow. (MODOT didn't bother really trying to get the roads cleared on Saturday, because it was like a 2 front storm. So, as soon as it calmed down a bit Saturday, the next wave was like almost here - d'oh!)
Okay, I need a shower and time to finish waking up here so I can look presentable for this interview.
Yes, please cancel! We're giving "week" a very broad definition, one that would include the past 13 days or so, right? I called in like that last Monday. INSURANCE COMPANIES SHOULD DIE.
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...if you write me more Cally fic ;)
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I shall talk to any congress people that come in, and tell them to cancel the rest of the week. Hopefully that'll work.
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*even though she has nowhere to be anyway*
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Dude. I should... do more cleaning. sigh. Or, I could make more Kara/Anders things to laminate.
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I heartily advocate the creation of more Kara/Anders things. Yus.
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sigh.
Throwing things out/giving them away is hard. I have a whole room to go through, at some point. It's all stuff I don't use, so there's no point in keeping it. But it's hard.
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Sigh. Yes. I hate throwing out cards from friends, etc. But. I can only keep so much.
I'm SO BORED. Maybe I'll... bake, or something. My own fault for going to bed at about 7pm and sleeping until 4am. -.-
I still have a mountain of Mardi Gras beads from Whomiga I don't want to get rid of. I need to pick some out for Boomer.
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Hrm. Baking. *ponders* That would require clean dishes, though. *blush*
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I'm thinking maybe some bread. Warm fresh bread = AWESOME.
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You could write me Kara fic!Or Kara vs. Eight.
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(also have not written any fic since, um. That bit with Kara and Cain from S3. Eek.)
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"You know,I don't seem to recall inviting you along," he muses out loud suddenly, staring through the time rotor of the TARDIS's console.
"You didn't," comes the frank response from his erstwhile and somewhat new companion, who's made herself comfortable in the Time Lord's favourite chair while she peruses his current book of poetry (by one T.S. Eliot). Booted feet rest on the Queen Anne coffee table. A wraith of blue-grey smoke drifts upward, her face obscured by the novel. She seems unmoved by his concern. "It was this or listen to that crazy frakhead Baltar go on about his latest scientific 'breakthrough', or deal with Lee and his daddy issues."
The book lowers just enough for her to peer over at the frock-coated nutcase piloting this ship. Her eyes crinkle with what's undoubtedly the beginnings of a deviant grin. "No contest."
He purses his lips for a moment, a frown settling across his Romantic features.
"You didn't have to be quite so ruthless back there, you know."
There's just the slightest roll of her eyes. "Frak that. Those metalheads are no better than the toasters." Pause. Another exhale of smoke. "Actually, they're worse. You said so yourself."
So he did. His mouth flattens into a thin line.
"Well, yes, but that's not the point -- "
He turns to look at her, intent on delivering a stern lecture about the morality of killing, then reminds himself she's in the military, not a civilian. The rules are somewhat different. The book lowers further. Her grin isn't shifting.
"You tell me what the point is, then, hot stuff."
He hates it when she does that. Although, to be honest, the distinct lack of screaming when faced with certain death is a plus. He sighs.
"Did you really have to use one to make that coffee machine?"
She leans forward, the better to look at the pieces of rehashed Dalek that now dutifully serves up something approaching a half-decent cup of coffee on demand. The eyepiece remains intact, glaring balefully at them both from beyond the grave - or wherever it is that dead Daleks go.
"Oh, I dunno. I think it's kinda cute." She wiggles her fingers at it, and snickers. "I used a toaster head for a planter once. The plants died, but y'know, it was the thought that counted."
He regards her thoughtfully for several moments, then reaches out to the console, long slender fingers casually pushing a lever. It takes her a few moments to notice - and by then it's too late - as the TARDIS tilts sideways and effectively rolls Kara Thrace out of the chair with a rather satisfying thud..
"Oop--!"
The corners of the Doctor's mouth twitch upward. "I think, my dear Ms. Thrace, that we need to establish some ground rules..."
Her only response drifts upward from the floor in the form of a grunt.
OMFG that is so much suck. >.>
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*cackles gleefully* She made a coffee maker out of a dalek! And then he dumped her out of her chair!
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Yay, I has entertained a Lyssie! And now, to make some mac and cheese, for I hunger.
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*is currently eating mac and cheese for breakfast*
Dude, you totally entertained me. And it was good!
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*beams happily*
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Only problem w/ that - I pulled a muscle on the left side of my neck last night, so I have like severely limited range of motion and mobility from my head through my shoulder - argh!
I blame the weather for it, since I couldn't go get the free futon on Saturday because of the snow. (MODOT didn't bother really trying to get the roads cleared on Saturday, because it was like a 2 front storm. So, as soon as it calmed down a bit Saturday, the next wave was like almost here - d'oh!)
Okay, I need a shower and time to finish waking up here so I can look presentable for this interview.
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Also? At first glance I thought you'd said you called in emo to work.
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Yeah, well, it kinda was.