flying through clouds of uncertainty on wings of existential dread
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.