shanmonster | Dinah Won't You Blow?

The end is just over the horizon. I stayed working until 23:30 last night, and I managed to set three stones. I'm only short one for what's due this morning. Of course, the stones I set are of dubious quality. Most of them have split soldering seams, and one has firescale (a huge no-no), but one is just about perfect. I still haven't polished any of the "finished" samples, but that's the easy part. And Patrick, my jewellery rendering instructor, halved our homework for next week. There is a possibility--not a probability, mind you--I will be able to get all my assignments done in time. Whoa.

What will I do with the fifteen minutes of spare time this completion of assignments will accord? I may sleep! Sleep is good. I may also talk with real, live people. And I may write. I'd like to write. I should be doing other things right this minute, but it feels better to get my thoughts out on virtual paper.

I get really weird in the minutes before I fall asleep. Last night, as I was nodding off, I started giggling, then said, "Vagina whistle!" This confused f00, so I explained myself, which didn't help clear up the confusion, whatsoever. You see, I was thinking about those little plastic whistles kids get and wear around their necks on strings. And I was thinking that my vagina had telekinetic powers, and managed to pull one of these whistles from the ether and then start blowing it. Musical queefs.

This looks even weirder as a write-up.