I just finished Adventures in the Dream Trade, which is a book by Neil Gaiman about all sorts of random stuff.

I finished it because I spent an hour yesterday in my car waiting for the Weavers to get home so that I could pick up their keys for apartment-sitting purposes. I stuck around till about ten minutes until 8, and then took off back to the TWP. They called me later (while I was sleeping – which resulted in me not sleeping, but hey, at least they tried to contact me) and left me some voice mails, which I checked this morning. It ended up in me not having to worry about it. While the 20 minute commute would have been nice for a few days, I would have spent on food what I saved on gas. So, *SHRUG*, no big deal.

On the way back to the TWP, I had the most odd… thing… happen to me. I was suddenly frustrated, extremely sad, like someone was taking my heart and crushing it. I hadn’t felt the desire to actually cry in months, and it was almost suffocating while I was driving. is fine, my family is fine, and I’ve heard no reports of any tradgedies (well, any new ones) since yesterday. I worry about it, but it’s a background process.

So, since the book I was obsessing over (limited edition, numbered hardback edition, thank you ) is finished, I might actually *gasp* start Chapter 8. And no, since I was feeling so absolutely shitty yesterday, I went right to bed when I got home. I should really learn not to promise specific deadlines for typing things up. ;)

Also, as a side note, I haven’t finished any but one snail mail letter. I need to snag more envelopes from Dad and print out more return address labels. I’ll still write, but they won’t go out till tomorrow at the earliest.