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brigdhAHHHHHH YULETIDE.
I'm back in Ohio now, this time by driving rather than by plane, which is nice, because I've flown more times than anyone should in the last few months. I had honestly and completely been planning to write my yuletide story on the way here, because I'd assumed that being trapped in a car for eight hours with nothing else to do would make it easy. Of course, I hadn't reckoned on the temperature inside a car in December, which meant I instead spent the entire time wrapped in a blanket and staring vaguely out of the window.
I have four words of a story, and I suspect I'm going to be violently ill in the next few hours. (Not from Yuletide. My stomach is making strange noises and I'm beginning to run a fever; what the fuck is up with me catching diseases just as I get home?) As the Yuletide website rather terrifyingly informs me, there are 23 hours and 22 minutes left to finish it. I'll make it, though I'm sure my shame will make me wish the stories could stay anonymous forever.
AHHHHHH YULETIDE.
I'm back in Ohio now, this time by driving rather than by plane, which is nice, because I've flown more times than anyone should in the last few months. I had honestly and completely been planning to write my yuletide story on the way here, because I'd assumed that being trapped in a car for eight hours with nothing else to do would make it easy. Of course, I hadn't reckoned on the temperature inside a car in December, which meant I instead spent the entire time wrapped in a blanket and staring vaguely out of the window.
I have four words of a story, and I suspect I'm going to be violently ill in the next few hours. (Not from Yuletide. My stomach is making strange noises and I'm beginning to run a fever; what the fuck is up with me catching diseases just as I get home?) As the Yuletide website rather terrifyingly informs me, there are 23 hours and 22 minutes left to finish it. I'll make it, though I'm sure my shame will make me wish the stories could stay anonymous forever.
AHHHHHH YULETIDE.
