Or, at least that's what it sounds like if I tell you that I have a cold today. My brother, sweetly enough, gave me this cold. Last night I ended up spending the night at my grandparent's because I went to go see the Chronicles of Narnia with them and have dinner, and after dinner I sat down on their couch...and woke up around nine this morning. Damned colt. Cold. Whatever.
In other news: The cat won't get off my lap. I go to the bathroom and she sits outside crying until I come back out. I'm so busy blowing my nose, wiping my eyes, and coughing I can't really appreciate the cute of it, so I've decided to share it with all of you in order for her to get some kind of an 'Aww' out of her care for me.
So, I wrote LA Confidential for Yuletide. A story called Epilogue, that really wouldn't exist without the help of seperis and hackthis who talked me down from the ledge that was the badfic I nearly wrote and posted. And! I received a wonderful story from hederahelix called Noir et Blanche, Fastlane, Van/Deaq.
I want to write, you guys. But I'm all sick and such and have literally no inspiration. I keep thinking about putting John and Rodney in Florida some how, but as far as that ever goes in my brain is "Rodney can't eat keylime pie hahahahahah! Conch fritters are good!"
*hangs head* My thoughts are sad, cold thoughts. Damned snow.