I had to print something off at the library and ended up in Lakewood surrounded by crazy regulars and sundry others that I really didn't want to deal with for reasons I prefer not to divulge here and snuck out without much recognition, feeling like a creep myself at a public Internet terminal, and not wanting to deal with general awkwardness of at least three different kinds. I can't remember the last time I was in the same room with at least four characters that I really have a strong aversion to. If anyone's dealt with me in the past twelve hours, I haven't totally been myself among those I know best.
One of my neighbors was as Marc's where I'd gone to find TSA-acceptable-sized mini bottles of shampoo because otherwise I might be trying to blow up a plane with nitroglycerine cleverly disguised in a bottle of seemingly innocuous Herbal Essences.
The terrorists have won, it seems because the regulations are crazy. I don't worry about planes blowing up but I'm not a fan of flying and usually sleep so I don't have to think about it.
We're both trying to do the garden thing and so we swapped extra seeds and now I'm up late feeling nervous from both caffeination and breaking from routine as the wind rattles the doors and the kitchen chairs. I'm so used to planning out my days with work and the show in mind, not digging out an old backpack and filling it with the necessities needed for four days in another city that I've never been to. There's the part of me that knows that it'll be fine and the other part that's always assuming the worst, which is never a good thing when what I really need is sweet sweet sleep.