Good morning, world. Happy Sunday. We’re awake, kitties by the door, covfefe in the pot. It’s sunny out, which is a good start. If the rest of the day stays this way, it will be lovely.
My long, solo Saturday was fine. I played some Just Dance in the morning. It wasn’t a long session, only until my body protested over a lack of fuel. I took a break to have lunch and hydrate with something other than coffee. Once lunch hour was over, I played a little more, slightly upsetting one knee in the process. And that concluded the afternoon’s physical activities.
With dancing off the table for the time being, I moved on to “Torchlight II“. I don’t know what level I am right now, but I’m setting fire to everything. If it’s not on fire, it’s frozen, or poisoned. Sometimes, I zap them with lightning, if I run out of mana and remember I’m wielding wands. Between my pet chakawary, Mr. Kibbles, and a group of zombies he summons, we do ok.
While I played, I streamed on TikTok live. I’ve mentioned before that Saturdays can be unpredictable. Sometimes it’s busy, sometimes chat is dead. Yesterday was steady, nothing crazy in terms of numbers. There were a couple of hiccups with the stream and I had to restart twice, once because I had a coughing fit coming on, and another when Pippin was sick. Mostly, I chatted and occasionally fucked with submissive (and not so submissive) men. We talked about video games and music and feet.
All good things come to an end, and I killed off the stream to make dinner. Shawshank was the only adult in the building yesterday (not literally), and I knew he would be pretty much out of spoons when he came home. I fixed a proper dinner for us, with pasta and sauce and made some garlic toast with dinner rolls. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it; I’d felt wrong while I was cooking, but I pushed through to finish the prep so at least there wouldn’t be anything for Shawshank to deal with. Fortunately, the feeling passed, and while I didn’t eat a whole helluva lot, I did eat.
We settled in after dinner for an evening of watching “Grease” while I uninstalled my hair. Everything was pissing me off with it. The general volume of the bog witch mane wasn’t as full as before. The ratio of locs to curls was such that the whole she-bang wanted to turn into one giant slug. I divided my hair into slightly larger sections this time, and I didn’t like the way they made my scalp and hair feel. I’m very sad to see it go (again), but I plan to tighten up the curls and probably seal them into locs for later use.
Today, we’re doing nothing.
