Apparently I did indeed NOT overdraw my checking account as I had feared, despite an errant Cub Foods check card charge that showed up from BEFORE FREAKING CHRISTMAS. It still means I have no money until Friday, but I have less no money than I figured, and will actually be able to get some groceries by the weekend and not be eyeing the canned green beans from 1974 as a possible edible substance.
I have a plan (un große plan). I'm gonna try and pull it off. I may not make it, but if I do, it will be a pretty big milestone despite my inherent ability to fuck myself over when it comes to plans of this type. It also means a few days worth of work. I don't think I have anything specific planned for the next few nights, so I'm gonna try.
If I fail, send a search party in after me. Or don't, because you may be eaten. There are things in my basement. Horrible things, made of nightmares and darkness and the foul stench of corpulence and old laundry, old paint and alchemy, somehow mixed together in a melange of Lovecraftian mystique.
Some of you have braved the Basement of Epic Darkness and survived, but dare not speak the name of the thing that lives under the stairs for fear of the madness that would ensue. I alone bear the sigil of enchantment that grants me passage through the darkness that lies within, yet even I tremble when the darkness descends, for it is then when the thing wakes from its evil slumber, and hungers for the living.
Or it may be one of the cats. Little bastards get everywhere.
The workbench tops seem to be ready to come unclamped. I'm gonna try and do that tonight if all goes well, though I don't know if I'll actually get the bases in place to put them on as that involves a bit more work yet, and it is a little lower on the priority list than some other things that need attention. Still, it's close, and I do need a place to experiment with my nefarious schemes other than the inaptly named "living" room (why is there never an "undying" room?) before too much time elapses. There is far too much ass-getting-in-gear action that needs to be happening, and I need to be able to have
I go now to await my fate. And walk the dog.