Ah, Salvation Army guy just said I was looking fantastic and asked how I did it. I said no sleep, so he praised me even more. Hell, sure he's sugaring me up for a larger donation, but I feel like a million dollars. Especially as I've felt uber frumpy all week.
Today is my last day for snazzy t-shirts etc as next week Fearless Leader is back, so it's back into the blouses, hair back in a bun (I had a manager once who insisted upon my having my hair up in a bun, and this lasted for two years or so, so now it's habit), pinchy shoes, etc.
No more reading TWOP in the lulls between projects, either. Up until now, I should point out, I always used to fill in the lulls with online tutorials on how to do various things, like forms, rollovers, css, fancy effects in photoshop, that sort of crap. But since I sprained my ankle and the trouble I copped over it for missing a deadline, since I'm always being told I might not have a job next week and so forth, eh, I just can't be bothered.
Yeah, I should be brushing up for my next job, but I'm just, well, more comfortable with bobbing along like a dumb piece of cork right now. Can't plan for holidays, can't plan for anything and I've given these folks everything I've got until I've nothing left to give, so yeah, not terribly motivated right now.
Five minutes later...
Damn, I'm actually full up with work to do today (the usual, a week's worth in a day). And just when my muse looked like it might be a bit more cooperative today. Mainly because I was watching Second Sight last night. I love that series, I love Clive, but weirdly, it's one of those shows that whenever I watch it, I have to write, I just can't help myself. I really must get it on dvd :D
I don't know why, but it just really fires up my imagination, every time. Missed it last week but this week I was up late, partly because it was hot and sticky, and party because the neighbours were renovating with hammers, saws and angle grinders until well past midnight. That they are actually nice, desperately need to do this and need to finish before they head back to uni is the only reason I'm letting it slide.
Plus I probably would have stayed up for Hornblower anyway. Frogs and Lobsters, with the absolotely edible Edrington. Embrace the HoYay, or, everbody wants to fuck Horatio, and the queue forms to the left, si vous plais. There's Capt. Pellew, pining and fretting over his little boy, so obviously that even French Loyalist officers feel moved to make comments. There there's the French bint, but forget about her, especially as she makes Lana Lang look like an actress. Edrington, so pretty and so, so catty, takes a decided interest in our boy, flirting wildly and then there's Archie of the longing looks.
I still squeal with delight over the bridge scene, with Archie racing the lit fuse to save his Horatio - love, apparently, gives Archie wings - to be gloriously followed by Edrington asking Archie to look after Horatio, with much in the way of meaningful looks. Archie follows up this request by running his hand down Horatio's coat, to let his hand rest on the small of Horatio's back, in the universal signal of "back off bitch, he's mine!"
Ah, happiness. It doesn't get better than this. No, really, it doesn't. I think this is pretty much the gayest moment in Hornblower, imho.
This made up for having to miss my planned Smallville fest thanks to the thunderstorms that roamed around all night. Aged Parent is a real freak case and will run around turning all the electrickery off, including the fridge if I don't catch her in time, whenever a storm rolls in, and it's one of those parental quirks that you pick up in spite of yourself, so while I'll defiantly keep watching my poor old tv (old enough to vote this year, the aged dear), I just can't comfortably switch on my shiny dvd player without fretting, so I don't.
It's entirely in the mind because if I'm at work, I'm not at all bothered by storms. Just at home, with the AP carrying on like some people's dogs, you know, running around barking, hiding under the couch, that sort of thing.
The really funny thing was, while flicking around for something to watch in our dvd and electric light free mode, Bro and I saw the storm just pelting down over the cricket ground while it was still sunny and dry overhead. We could see the damn storm on the horizon, and we could see it just bucketing down on the tv but did either of us stir a stump to go and shut any of the windows which we'd flown open in the heat until the first drops of rain started splattering about the place? No. D'oh. It was like that Leunig cartoon of the folks watching the sunset on tv.
After our mad dash to slam all the windows shut we settled for Drusilla's folks on Mission Impossible. It's creepy that a show from the 60s could be still 'ripped from today's headlines'. You really like to think we move on, but we really, really don't.