![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
To Do today:
- Make 2 double batches of artichoke dip.
- Lunch, makeup, the usual leaving the house prep.
- Be at a friend's house by 4:00 for a small Christmas Eve dinner.
- Finish wrapping presents. The ones left are the Stroppy One's, so he obviously can't help.
All of this is a bit ... compressed, because I rolled out of bed at 11:14. Which, I won't lie, is earlier than I have been getting up recently.
---
Anyway, yesterday was not great, because my feeling low came to a head and I apparently woke up with bad brain chemistry, so there was sobbing and whatnot. So I went to the spa for 3 hours and read fic and trashy vampire novels. And later that night a friend came over, I plied her with drinks (she's going through rough times, enough so that I email her every few days to remind her to Eat A Solid Food), and we flailed at each other about Hannibal.
Her: There's no point to me writing Hannibal fic. It would be food porn, suit porn, and a tiny amount of smut.
Me: I AM YOUR TARGET AUDIENCE WRITE ME FIC.
Also, we may have made vague absinthe-fueled plans for her to cosplay as a Victorian version of Hannibal, and me as a Victorian dress interpretation of the Dire Ravenstag. (Yeah, this will mean I have to wear antlers, but Dire Ravenstag! Feather covered bustle and capelet!)
- Make 2 double batches of artichoke dip.
- Lunch, makeup, the usual leaving the house prep.
- Be at a friend's house by 4:00 for a small Christmas Eve dinner.
- Finish wrapping presents. The ones left are the Stroppy One's, so he obviously can't help.
All of this is a bit ... compressed, because I rolled out of bed at 11:14. Which, I won't lie, is earlier than I have been getting up recently.
---
Anyway, yesterday was not great, because my feeling low came to a head and I apparently woke up with bad brain chemistry, so there was sobbing and whatnot. So I went to the spa for 3 hours and read fic and trashy vampire novels. And later that night a friend came over, I plied her with drinks (she's going through rough times, enough so that I email her every few days to remind her to Eat A Solid Food), and we flailed at each other about Hannibal.
Her: There's no point to me writing Hannibal fic. It would be food porn, suit porn, and a tiny amount of smut.
Me: I AM YOUR TARGET AUDIENCE WRITE ME FIC.
Also, we may have made vague absinthe-fueled plans for her to cosplay as a Victorian version of Hannibal, and me as a Victorian dress interpretation of the Dire Ravenstag. (Yeah, this will mean I have to wear antlers, but Dire Ravenstag! Feather covered bustle and capelet!)