|Our TREE. My Mom is one of those snazzy people who decorates her tree differently every year. Note all the dead reindeer and people hanging in the branches. Snazzeh.|
So. Guess from whence shiny halls I was just released. . .
NO, gah, the hospital.
Now surely you're like, "You were at the HOSPITAL? Were you sick? Did you die? Is that why you've been conspicuously absent from social media these past few weeks? Is that why you haven't been answering my texts, and why you cancelled that interview, and why you're behind in revisions, and why you twitter-snubbed me last Wednesday, and why you didn't come eat holiday-inspired cupcakes with us even though you PROMISED to eat holiday-inspired cupcakes with us?"
Yeah, that would probably be why. And I know, it's lame. It's so lame it makes me mad. Usually when I get behind in things, or find myself unable to do the things I know I need to be doing I'll just be all, "STOP BEING A LAZY DAISY, STEFAN" *cracks whip*
But this time when I tried it, it just went like. . .
I don't like being sick. I don't particularly like hospitals. I don't like having tubes stuck into my arms. Like seriously, how gross is that. IVs are disgusting. And I'm not sure I like doctors either.
Doctor: *shakes Stefan's hand*
Stefan: "I have the PLAGUE. I'm pretty sure it's the bubonic kind. You'll probably die now, too."
Doctor: *ignores Stefan*
Stefan: "Or it might be faeries. Whadaya gonna do if it's faeries, huh?"
I also got an ultrasound. From the pictures I'm guessing my child will weigh 242,000 tonnes and will feature a general store and a saloon and approximately 700 cacti.
You probably didn't think that was funny, but I did, so there. And just FYI, they do ultrasounds for other things than babies. Ya know, things like THE PLAGUE.
I also grew a beard out of sheer laziness. It's pretty impressive. Oh wait, no it's not. It looks my face is moldy.
Well, that was cheery! :D Seriously, though, happy New Years to you, and I hope you had an awesome Christmas, and yeah. *shuffles back to bed*