{ seriously, I'm going to sleep now. }

GRATUITOUS ICON POST.

"And then he threw a toaster at me. A toaster!"

{ I want to shut up all the lights in this room. }

So, N has a cold and won't fucking medicate. I swear, if I get ill, I'm locking her in her room. She can fester in her own germs in there. Also, later today, The Flatmate's mother is coming - along with The Flatmate's dog. So I suppose I'll be the one locked in my room.

I've put the laundry on, and there's sun outside, but there are also some clouds which, frankly, is Sod's fucking Law, isn't it? Sigh, sigh. Am about to start doing my 19th C. poetry reading for next week, got an ear out for the door, too, in case my books turn up today (fingers crossed!). Am listening to Ingrid Michaelson's Boys and Girls which is a really cohesive album; enjoying that a lot. And am complaining a lot, as you can tell.

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Someone posted post-6x02 fic, and you should read it because it's very good. Jo and Ros, gen. Vague spoilers for season 6 goings-on.

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The Flatmate and I have made it up to 1x04 in our Supernatural nostalgia trip, and, naturally, I have been thinking about Papa Winchester in terms of his four stages of evolution: pre-demons, early post-demon, pre-pilot and post-pilot. And I really want to read fic but I'm bad for scouting it out. I should do that soon, though.

The Flatmate and I also decided to watch season 1 Spooks on Sunday - the episode with Anthony Stewart Head/Peter Salter. And then I was thinking about ( 6x02 spoiler )

So that's something else to think about.

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No, really, I plan on being productive today.

{ "we're family, and that's allowed." }

NCIS took me five hours to watch. SO WORTH IT. I just— SO DAMN WORTH IT.