"Should I have been blunter? Just said hey, Teyla. Want to fuck?"

So I can't sleep. Which isn't anything new. The last few days have basically been my body rebelling against how much I've been resting because of the sick. Last night I did pass out kind of early, but for the most part it's been 3, 4, 5... And that's not a pretty thing. I do have to go to work on Monday. Though at this point, I kind of want to go back. I'm sick of my house. My couch is no longer comfortable and my ass is sore from sitting/laying on it all the time! Hmm...does that count as TMI? Naaah.

So Chris is sick now. He had a rockin' fever earlier and kind of looks like I did a week ago. Yay! And the cycle of illness in our house continues. As long as the dog doesn't get sick, we're fine. When Chrissy stopped by earlier to drop off my Spooky, Trick or Treat, Glasgow, and Umbra, she wore her scarf over her face and refused to come inside. I did manage to get her to come in to sniff Kether and look at my pretty new bpal cabinet. Now she has entered the house of sickness! Mwuhahaha!

I sent in my due South secret santa fic. It's just under 3000 words which for me, is fan-freakin-tastic. Yuletide is at 671, but it's chugging along. Finally. I have one scene to finish and one more to write. So to treat myself, I'm ignoring the Yuletide fic for now and finishing what might be the last scene of the SGA fic I've been writing since *July*. You'd think it was some epic fic about John and Rodney's true love and all of that, but really it's only 18 pages probably going to maybe hit 25 tops about John and Rodney's weird not-dating with a side order of snarky Zelenka and lots of discussion of blowjobs and the sex lives of the folks on Atlantis. I fully expect tigs to rip it to shreds and make me actually /look/ at all of the plot holes that are glaringly obvious. Like why does John have a cast? And how does he know that Carson has a sheep tattooed on his ass?

You know, maybe I should go to bed and stop jumping into entries on bpalanonymous and raving about scents and whatnot. Yes. Bed. Where the sick boy and dog are.

Ooh look! A bird.

[chases bird]

"Should I have been blunter? Just said hey, Teyla. Want to fuck?"

So I can't sleep. Which isn't anything new. The last few days have basically been my body rebelling against how much I've been resting because of the sick. Last night I did pass out kind of early, but for the most part it's been 3, 4, 5... And that's not a pretty thing. I do have to go to work on Monday. Though at this point, I kind of want to go back. I'm sick of my house. My couch is no longer comfortable and my ass is sore from sitting/laying on it all the time! Hmm...does that count as TMI? Naaah.

So Chris is sick now. He had a rockin' fever earlier and kind of looks like I did a week ago. Yay! And the cycle of illness in our house continues. As long as the dog doesn't get sick, we're fine. When Chrissy stopped by earlier to drop off my Spooky, Trick or Treat, Glasgow, and Umbra, she wore her scarf over her face and refused to come inside. I did manage to get her to come in to sniff Kether and look at my pretty new bpal cabinet. Now she has entered the house of sickness! Mwuhahaha!

I sent in my due South secret santa fic. It's just under 3000 words which for me, is fan-freakin-tastic. Yuletide is at 671, but it's chugging along. Finally. I have one scene to finish and one more to write. So to treat myself, I'm ignoring the Yuletide fic for now and finishing what might be the last scene of the SGA fic I've been writing since *July*. You'd think it was some epic fic about John and Rodney's true love and all of that, but really it's only 18 pages probably going to maybe hit 25 tops about John and Rodney's weird not-dating with a side order of snarky Zelenka and lots of discussion of blowjobs and the sex lives of the folks on Atlantis. I fully expect tigs to rip it to shreds and make me actually /look/ at all of the plot holes that are glaringly obvious. Like why does John have a cast? And how does he know that Carson has a sheep tattooed on his ass?

You know, maybe I should go to bed and stop jumping into entries on bpalanonymous and raving about scents and whatnot. Yes. Bed. Where the sick boy and dog are.

Ooh look! A bird.

[chases bird]