It’s fucking Friday. Chaucer is pressed against me, looking very annoyed every time I reach for my coffee and slightly disturb him. Pippin is tucked into a tiny ball, like a cat-sized roly-poly bug.
They exist in the ocean. Don’t Google it.
As planned and expected, we did nothing yesterday. Shawshank grabbed the Switch controller pretty early in the day. He played for a couple of hours, until he started to backtrack too much and it was my turn. I made a bunch of headway in my own progress.
I’m dreading endgame. Not because of difficulty, but because the story will be finished. I know I’m in the final stretch, but it’s just such a fun game with a fucking fabulous story, and I don’t want to stop playing.
Shawshank‘s at work this morning. Morning shifts don’t hurt as much when they come after four days off. I’m going to work on customizing my dress form’s adjustments so they match me, then maybe look through my pattern book (full of mostly simple but somewhat stuffy looks) for something that might work with my fabric stash.
