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In fannishness, I'm making my way through Veronica Mars S2. It's a bit less awesome than the first season, but oh the banter! The witty, witty banter! And that bit where Keith told Wallace that if he pinched his nipples it would help him pee! *loves on Keith* *thinks Keith is the best TV dad eva*
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In non-fannish life stuff, this morning, as I was walking down the big-fuck-off hill to work (although really, I only swear at it in the evenings, when I have to walk up it), I noticed a pile of clothes on the other side of the chain-link fence that separates the sidewalk and road from the local park.
"How did that happen?" I thought idly "Someone lost their... hey... wait a minute!"
One of my mittens was in the pile of clothes. One of my mittens which I lost two years ago, I don't know where, and mourned, because I loved the wool I knit it from. I climbed over the fence, rooted through the wet and slimy leaves, and carried it gingerly the rest of my half-hour walk to work, holding it arms' length and pinching it by the very tip of the thumb, because it was wet and dirty and gross.
It's now in the wash, and despite being kind of delighted by the whole thing, I'm also aware that this is the kind of pack-rat-positive reinforcement I don't need. I didn't throw out the mitt's mate--for two years--because somehow I thought I'd find it again... and I did. Now I'm going to feel twingy about getting rid of all my odd socks.
--
In non-fannish life stuff, this morning, as I was walking down the big-fuck-off hill to work (although really, I only swear at it in the evenings, when I have to walk up it), I noticed a pile of clothes on the other side of the chain-link fence that separates the sidewalk and road from the local park.
"How did that happen?" I thought idly "Someone lost their... hey... wait a minute!"
One of my mittens was in the pile of clothes. One of my mittens which I lost two years ago, I don't know where, and mourned, because I loved the wool I knit it from. I climbed over the fence, rooted through the wet and slimy leaves, and carried it gingerly the rest of my half-hour walk to work, holding it arms' length and pinching it by the very tip of the thumb, because it was wet and dirty and gross.
It's now in the wash, and despite being kind of delighted by the whole thing, I'm also aware that this is the kind of pack-rat-positive reinforcement I don't need. I didn't throw out the mitt's mate--for two years--because somehow I thought I'd find it again... and I did. Now I'm going to feel twingy about getting rid of all my odd socks.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-12 12:23 pm (UTC)