My mother has once again definitively proven she's on crack -- I'm the one with the minor concussion, but she's yelling at me for not calling work to tell them and filing an incident report. A) I know BB, and Dale damn-well did, because they always cover their asses, and B) I told Jeff this morning, not that he seemed concerned, and not that I had an official diagnosis, and C), Doctor Choi, that second-choice Father Of My Children, not only diagnosed me, but took down BB's phone number and my SIN info and is going to make sure they do it, because he's a wonderful, wonderful person. Anyway.
Using the time it takes for my mother to pull the IV out of her arm, wipe the crack from her nose and apologize to me, to re-arrange my room (Project Urban Renewal has been on pause the last few weeks due to lack of funds and/or IKEA drawers.) But now, my desk is in the corner, my monitor is sitting on top of my old bio book, my giant executive chair has been dragged upstairs, and I'm taking a break and chatting to Paul before I lug the CPU upstairs. I don't want to have to go downstairs if I don't want to. Incidentally, just found my GameGear, with Sonic 2 still in it- hello, Ebay. (Unless anyone else wants it?)
Before I left for the walk-in, I turned some music on and started singing to it, near the birdcage, and he was tweeting and squeaking away happily. He's finally actually measurably tame: I can just about touch him, he doesn't freak out when you go near him, and now he's responding to people talking to him. Yay! Domestication achieved!
Readin' nothing
Listenin' to some odd retro song on 102.1
Thinkin' about finishing up my room :)
Most recently I was 
