(no subject)

—hey, when did I become a Harry/Draco shipper?

I think I blame astolat.

(Fuck. I have many chapters left of this fic and it's time to leave for work.)

(no subject)

( ovarian-morph tmi, food, story )

(no subject)

I got How Do We Know It's God?: a spiritual memoir by Dan Wakefield from the library. I'm halfway through. I think it's going back tonight (or when I next bother to library, anyway) only half read. Who gives a fuck about the sexual exploits of a cishet guy in his fifties except cishet guys in at least their forties? That is NOT what I thought I was getting from the title and summary.

(no subject)

Oh crap. I just volunteered myself (inadvertently, mind you) to organize the work section's Mardi Gras party. And to bring a king cake (which means two king cakes, because a gluten-free coworker) to top my (admittedly amateur) efforts for last Mardi Gras work section party.

This means I have to plan a party and bake two king cakes!

/o\

MY KITCHEN IS A POSTAGE STAMP