we are alive!

And in the new apartment. Which is full of stuff. I wore the skin off my fingers cleaning the kitchen downstairs, but the new people should be happy.

*smoooooooooooches Jara*

I have chocolate-covered donuts.

eta; er.. and I am on Timey's computer.

omg.

er, this will have spoilers for new Galactica episodes Kobol and Home, so, er, cutting. Yes.
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randomosity

So, a friend of a friend got us an earlier date for our cable hookup. Yay.

It took me two hours to clean the kitchen for the new tenants. And I scrubbed the fucking floor. But, omg, those scotch 2in1 sponges are of the GODS.

My hands hurt. Oddly, typing is okay, as long as I don't try to extend my pinkies much.

I keep trying to think of something that doesn't sound selfish and cold-hearted to say about Katrina, and all I can come up with is this: I don't care. No, really. I've spent NINE FUCKING MONTHS looking for a job, excuse me if I don't worry about people who are now getting federal and disaster relief money to live on. Besides, considering how bits of my childhood were spent not knowing if we would be living on the street or not (and yes, this includes using gas station bathrooms to get clean in--although it was usually fast food places), I think I've covered "harrowing experiences 101" already.

Nick Fury is currently king of the candy pitcher.

I ended up putting the Cat in the Hat next to the Preacher tpbs.

sigh. Is it next Friday yet?