One Who Wanders (abiona) wrote,
One Who Wanders

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Some anonymous donor gave me a two year subscription to YM. Huh?

I don't get it either.

So yeah, I played Wind Waker for nearly eleven or twelve hours straight today/yesterday, taking breaks periodically to ingest things and move the mountain of laundry (but towels and other dryable whites only) from the hallway, to the washer, to the dryer, to the basement, to be folded, to go to its proper home. Having played for so damn long, I made very significant progress, and am now somewhere inside the Wind Temple (Makar is horribly, torturously CUTE in a twisted way. He looks like a little blobby, happy tree, makes a great sound, and he waves his legs like a little child when you pick him up. I want one of him.)

Jalhalla now ranks amongst my favorite bosses, ever (not like the list is large, as most bosses scare the hell out of me and I spent most of the boss fight shrieking and running). Why is this boss one of my faves, you ask ...? Well, it doesn't take itself seriously. The music is chirpy, the boss is fat (until you knock him apart), the pieces are brightly colored ... ah, a boss with a sense of humor. I like that.

Mother: Have you got carpal tunnel syndrome yet?
Me: No, I don't think so ...

An hour or so passes by.

Mother: Have you got carpal tunnel syndrome yet?
Me: No, I don't think so ...

But apparently my flossing technique sucks, and as a result my gums are irritated (though this is not something a person can tell easily, as I feel no pain in day to day life). "There are bleeding spots at," said the dental hygenist, and then she proceeded to list off numbers and names, and layman me nearly rolled my eyes. Well, dear god, I think, you're poking me with a long sharp metal object. What do you want?

Been debating renaming my journal, or giving it some sort of sub-name, like a subheader or a subtitle ... "beak is not snorkel" (title of my previous entry), because the sound of the phrase amuses me. We were talking about why birds bathe in birdbaths and not in Lake Michigan, and I had the theory that through years of trial and error and bird drownings, the collective bird conscious says "don't do it!" Apparently, sayeth Paul, they have learned that "beak is not snorkle."

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