- I solved the problem of not having time to go to the laundromat by scheduling that for the end of the month, right before I have a visitor. (I've not been since August, so as one might imagine, my towels and sheets and coverlets ARE IN DIRE NEED.) I usually handwash all my clothing, but I'm out of laundry detergent; I think the stereotypical move here would be to buy more underwear, but I don't actually have time to buy more underwear, either, so I will wash them with human soap and all will be well. (Life would be so much easier if I had 1) a nearer washing machine, or 2) a car!!!)
- I've solved the problem of being without SPN and very behind on SPN by scheduling it for my bus commutes. Generally I like to take my SPN in a classier environment but fuck it. I also do not care what sort of bizarre horror I subject my seatmates to. I'll start after the 14th and I should be all caught up by the time 10x16 airs!
- I've solved the problem of not ficcing by Tweeting scenes to myself right before I go do bed or while I'm on the bus, which I guess I'll count. XD Every time I get on the bus the charity fic I'm writing just gets weirder, which I think I'm okay with and my recipient I hope will be okay with. My crowning achievement for today is adding a major, ridiculous retcon to a canon retcon that EVERYBODY HATES, which pleases me more than it should. <3
- On the 5th I was forcing myself to write, and hating every word and every minute of it, but with two days' perspective, I think I actually kinda like it--which is always encouraging. Here's a little snippet:
Castiel is the loose stone in this house, the reason it will never be home. He has that way about him. Dean has a tendency to go desolately quiet when he comes around, though it's not a begrudging silence or even a shamed one (though perhaps it should be). He'll shoot the shit with Jo, in this strange big farmhouse, but somehow the acceptability of this strange stasis loses out when Castiel becomes it. Castiel makes clear the rifts in its makeup and the cosmic quietness of it all, in a way that makes his unease palpable. He's not used to the untendedness of this space. If Earth felt ruinous already, this is worse than Hell. Hell under Crowley was regimented, and Heaven under God and even God's unworthy stewards, his kind the angels, had adhered to a blueprint. It had ben concretized by reason. Castiel has never been so close to a thing ruled largely by Death, and is unaccustomed to the vacuum of chaos. If death is a vacuum and this space lingers on the edge of it, you know Castiel believes he is the only one in any position to save them all. Because Jo is comfortable anywhere, and Dean is just different. Dean doesn't believe anything is real anymore, anyway.
- I also finished an academic thing and wrote myself into a position of saying something I ACTUALLY THINK IS KIND OF SMART, so hopefully that flies with my prof on Monday. If it doesn't, I've decided I don't fucking care. My GPA is literally irrelevant at this point, anyway, and she is no on my committee, so... XP
- I've resolved the problem of food taking too long to prepare by resolving to eat nothing but spaghetti and strawberries for the foreseeable future. I have a shitton of carrots and sweet corn and kale and mushrooms, and dumping them in some tomato sauce is exactly the amount of prepwork that seems acceptable at this juncture.
- And I've resolved that no matter what, I will take 20 minutes of me-time while eating breakfast to read All My Puny Sorrows by Miriam Toews. This book completes me. It is the best thing I've read in a long, long time. The language and style of it is utterly catching, and it's funny but painful in the way that after you've passed a certain threshold, all tragedy is. This means that yes, I'll probably be posting way too many quotes from it here.