There's an undercurrent of stuff burbling down inside me. I don't know what it is yet-- and no, I don't mean it in the Chrohn's Crones sense, more the psychologemo variant. Like monsters in the basement, hiding under the back stairs of my brain.
I'm gonna hop into bed and watch Dead Like Me episodes until I sleep. Sadie's been fluffy-brushed, and now she's laying in the Hall of Doors. I flipped her bed over so the dry side is up, but I'm gonna have to wash the outer covering this week anyway.
Love by wire.
