Ink Stains and Empty Teacups

SWEETHEART HAS MOVED. Again. The house looks like somebody blew up a stationary store. I kid you not, I will NEVER EVER EVER have to buy pencils or paper again.

But, on the plus side, I now haz a 13-week old kitten named Gizmo, who is just made of awesome, and possibly mishief. I shall elaborate;

Last night, The Brains Trust of No 19 (Also known as Ma and N) managed to LOSE her. FOR AN ENTIRE NIGHT. And I'm leaving her with them for two week in August. I'll probably return to find they've sold her to the circus or something!

(There will be picturez, just as soon as I can convince her that staying still and looking cute is beneficial)

Other news: Sweetheart is having her ass handed to her by her very foolish ambitious leap into the heady 'verse that is Tam!Inspired Numb3rs genderswap. Donna Eppes is brilliant, and I can hardly believe I have written something that is essentially its own person, and therefore rather mouthy, as per it being a female!Don.

Dammit, Jim, I'm a student-cum-climbing post, not a .....a..an author!

Also: Sweetheart gets Tam!fic!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

So after completely blanking the new series of Doctor Who and the pretteh, sparkleh that is the Eleventh Doctor for the grand total of what was ooooh, 4 weeks and six days, my resistiance sort of collapsed under the force of my incessant, insatiable and often irritating curiousity (not wholly unlike a sumo wrestler pinning it's opponent, by the by) , I finally got round to exploring Eleven.
...
Yes, I am aware of how that sounds, believe me. I also don't have that sort of luck, more's the pity.

Anywho (geddit? Who?), it is now six hours later, my ass that brand of numb that'll hurt like a bitch when I regain feeling, my neck is leading the rebellion against my shoulders, I need a drink and I want next Saturday to be here in the worst sort of way.

Damn you, Eleven, damn you.