Neurotic Owl

flying through clouds of uncertainty on wings of existential dread

And he has wings of blue.


As am I — in fact, as of either tomorrow or Friday, I’m dyeing wool.  Yaaaaaaaaay. . . sad trombone.  The thing about dyeing is, usually if I fuck up, we have a little unevenness or particulate marks or the wrong shade, and at worst I either overdye to correct the tint or, if I must, color remove (eugh, rotten egg smell) and start over.  If I fuck up with wool, we have felt.

Also, I’m writing a cover letter and working on my resume tonight, so just assume my heebies are at maximum jeeby.


“Watch some TV, you’ll feel better.”

Hush, avoidance-enabling kitty.

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