Bless James, for he has fixed my photoshoppe. Had a rather spectacular crash earlier this week that took out all the programs that were open. Bloody thing never should have worked on my OS in the first place. Now to wreak doom with it. Well, later. The days have ridden past into a full month. Time to brave the office and pick up my cheques. Then the doom. Okay, first the bank, then the doom. Maybe no doom at all, actually. Perhaps I’ll end up playing with it for hours again until I shut it off in a surge of uselessness. That sounds somehow more likely.
Actually, a day like this, where even the ferret doesn’t want to play, I think I may end up sitting in my window nook writing all over myself in various coloured markers. Something to make the scribbling on my arm less noticable. Worst case scenario, people begin excusing my oddities by assuming I’m an Artist. *shudders*
Damnit people – what am I going to be for Halloween?
She’s lifting her dress up, fingers of one hand racing along the edge of the railing. Her shoes clatter hollowly in the stairway, her clothing dripping colour. Whatever I’ve been thinking’s been erased in just this moment. I want very much to hear her laugh. Thought flickers at thousands a minute, but mine’s been slowed by a sudden change in blood flow.