It's been with me all day. I've had maybe twenty attacks, none of them as bad as when I'm not on the drugs, but bad enough. Afterwards I almost always get a regular headache, so I've had that all day. Thanks Ibuprofen, for giving me a few hours' relief.
I got some writing done. I finished The Godslayer, my apocalyptic fantasy story that I am turning in on Wednesday morning. Getting it done today was nice, now I have a few nights to revise it. In the end, I might not turn it in, if I have the stones to write another story. We'll see.
Other activities today have included a trip to Barnes & Noble, not-as-good-as-Nadeau's subs and an hour and a half long walk with Party Planner (yes, alright, enough with the Palin now, we're after all in week six as of 28 minutes ago) and Alaska.
There are all kinds of sights on the walk, things we tend to go by every time. The fireflies on the field. The monk graveyard. The stone head. The haunted house (only some times).
As we neared the graveyard today we heard what sounded like a sprinkler. We've never heard a sprinkler there before, or even seen one. "A moose peeing," I said. We got out of there quickly. Our final theory? One hundred monk zombies pissing.
We decided to take the long long route, past the haunted house. It's a big old house with a barn and old stables right next to it. Every time we go by, which is always after ten p.m., there are cars outside and the lights are on in the back rooms. It looks like they're renovating it. Tonight as we passed, a black cat sat in the second story window, silhouetted by those lights. If ever there was a cat that looked like it belonged to a wicked witch, it was that one.
So, I'm not sure I'm going by that house ever again... I will really miss those walks. We talk about our stories and life, the universe and everything. Also, they're a good way to at least pretend I'm walking off a few of the endless number of cookies I have eaten over these five weeks.
Now bed. First, quotes.
This one from when we were out driving the other day, on our way to whereever.
Me: Where does this road go?
Peeko: To our doom. Let's go.
This one as we were driving with the Commodore to a book store and were passed by an Evil Truck (long story to explain that one) and someone remarked that evil is fast.
Dundee: Evil doesn't have to be fast. Evil is the tortoise. It's inevitable.
And finally a pic. This should have been posted in the last post, but I forgot. From the Friday night barbecue:
Darth Narcomancer, resident Odyssey Sith Lord