Lights

two-week maladaptive daydreaming throes preventing me from LITERALLY EVERYTHING have resulted in fifty-six pages of gdocs roughline as told to myself/my future self, as a present wrested from the jaws of inattentive incapacity.

fifty-six fucking pages in like four days. #wwwWWORTHLESS TO EVERYONE EXCEPT FOR ME

The wind is absolutely howling outside, throwing snow around, and the whole building has dropped a few degrees (due to being so shitty, mostly, but). Gonna be an adventure getting across, let alone out of, the parking lot tonight. My job is so directly tied to making a difference to thousands of farm animals that I can’t like REALLY get my millenial complain on properly about much besides the (pay, the people and) the weather.

Edit: snow tires are Extremely good, and I lounged home at a comfy 20mph manspread across what I guessed at being the middle of the road. Nice drive, middling to whiteout conditions, no rules.

This journal isn't dead! If I manage any art or writing, it'll now first be posted here.