What do your clothes do when you leave the room? Or, I've been staring at code for too long.

What do clothes do when you're not around? Say you leave your clothes at home while you go about your day. When you go home and get those clothes, what have they been doing with their free time?

My sweater has been taking magic lessons.

Now, before we get into arguments over the likelihood of a gray sweater being enrolled in the Madtown branch of Hogwarts, allow me to explain my position. I went to talk to my supervisor about a problem that she's been having with getting my code to work. I showed her that it does work, but only if you're actually using that program in the first place and the changes we made won't be there if you're in a different system. Shocking, I know.

I decided that I deserved some popcorn to celebrate things working right for a little while and as a last meal in case the other developer I'm supposed to contact this afternoon decides to eat my soul for having disturbed him at his Much More Important Than Yours work.

So I'm sitting here, munching on some popcorn and sipping white grape juice (shut up, it's a wonderful combination) when, as is usual, I dropped some popcorn.

I saw it fall down my left sleeve, but when I reached in with my right hand, there was no popcorn. I looked in. No popcorn. I stood up and shook my sleeve around. No popcorn.

I just now found the stray kernel on the complete opposite side of my office.

Thus I conclude that my sweater has been taking magic lessons. Don't even get me started on what my shoes do when they get bored.

Evening wrapup

I must type quickly before I faceplant into my keyboard and sleep at the table for the night. I think that Downwood might try to get me up the stairs to a bed, but I can totally see him abandoning my limp, snoring form in the middle of the staircase, leaving me to slide down the stairs to a huddled pile in front of the door where I will be awakened at dawn by the dog bounding down the stairs, crushing my ribcage, looking for me to take her on her morning stroll.

*yawn*

When I get tired, I talk a lot.

After a minor meltdown, the evening recovered very well. Got some good talking and good painting in (what color hair do gnomes have?). Then, I decided to go all out. I took a wonderful bath with the Waving Not Drowning bath bomb from Lush (text of inspiratory poem under cut below). After wrapping up in flannel jammies, I came downstairs to a mug of Godiva hot chocolate laced with Godiva dark chocolate liqueur. The final touch was a piece of dark chocolate filled with a darker chocolate ganache. At this precise moment, it is good to be me.

( Not Waving But Drowning )