(no subject)

ONE A THESE THERMOMETERS LYING TO ME. This morning mine said 101.1F. At the walk-in clinic it told me 97.6F. Mine now says 100.6F. And I just checked with Mom's and it says 97.9F.

But I liked my thermometer. It gets a reading in just a couple seconds.

(no subject)

M*A*S*H. Klinger. SAY NO MORE.

I want to work on Mom's Christmas present but she is in the room.

Yuletide progress: still nil words-wise. Part because I still have a fuckton of canon to review, part because...well, the scene I thought of writing just isn't very interesting to me. And that's not going to make a good fic, or probably any fic. But I have no other ideas and I know none of my recip's other canons and I do not want to default again.