rivers_bend

daasgrrl has written a Housefic called Intersections. It is profoundly, profoundly good. It's so good that that is all I can say about it, because it has that sort of effect. I don't think it even matters if you've ever seen an episode of House.

Go read it. Please.



I thought I was getting better yesterday until I was felled at noon by an attack of vertigo so bad that I had to lie completely flat and still hold onto the sofa for dear life. B did go to the grocery store without me and get food for the week, so there was a silver lining to the cloud of overwhelming nausea.

I was enough better after a nap that I did manage to write a segue scene for the final chapter of Detox which tigertrapped and I have been working on this week. I can't say enough about the scenes Tiger wrote for it. I went from breathless with anticipation, to breathless with lust, to breathless with sobbing.

I also started a tale of boy lust at Uni. Writing is going so slowly though, as I just don't feel like I can keep my brain in gear for any sustained period of time. It's like being drunk in more ways than one. I've never been much of a fan of being drunk anyway, but at least when you've done this to yourself you can do the maths to figure out when you'll have processed the alcohol.

I dreamed about my grandmother last night, and woke up with the crushing realisation that I will never see her again. This isn't the first time I've had that realisation, but it was the first time that it came in conjunction with having seen her so vividly in my dreams. I could feel that particular softness of her cheek against mine when I hugged her, and smell the grandmothery smell that was her face powder and hairspray.

The post-man has made me a happy woman this morning, though from the look on his face when I answered the door in nothing but my dressing gown I'm not sure I made his day exactly. I suspect, and I could be wrong, but I doubt it, that he'd have been happier if I were more about the cock and less about the cleavage.