Going To Hell...Who's Coming With Me?

I am exhausted.

And I am sick.

And I am not going to bed because if I go to bed, I will have to stop drinking tea, and tea is the only thing making my sore throat bearable right now.

Tell me I'm not allowed to knit a Heraldwhite and blue scarf, hat, and mitt set for next winter. Mostly, tell me this because gods know I never wear white (and also, by the time any of the above were finished they wouldn't be white, they'd be cat hair colored). But I have a lot of nice white wool yarn to use up...

I should not have watched the MANTIS pilot before the series, because going from that insanely pretty cast to the substantially less pretty cast of the series made it harder to watch (though, easier to focus on plot, so there's that). Plus, there was 100% less wet-Carl-Lumbly-in-swimtrunks in the series. I pout.

I have eaten approximately all the food in the world today, and am trying to convince myself I ought to eat the salad in the fridge rather than order pizza. I blame hormones.

Alas, I cannot blame hormones for the fact I've been too unfocused to write for something like three weeks now. That's just evil brain chemistry at work. Bad brain. (Though I did almost want to start my Lone Ranger-as-Herald fic today, in part because yesterday I found a site with some Lone Ranger radio scripts posted.

It's hot and humid and Tower of Babil is huge and hard and doesn't have enough save points and OMG FILLED WITH FLAMEHOUNDS WHO SCORCH MY PARTY TO DEATH WAAAHHHH.

And y'all wonder why I'd rather be playing Dragon Quest. :P