(no subject)

Okay. If I keep getting on the internet I'm not going be ready when the movers come tomorrow at 9 a.m. I have to get going. But I'm going to meme first, having borrowed it from jewelsong because I don't really want to work...

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(no subject)

Okay. If I keep getting on the internet I'm not going be ready when the movers come tomorrow at 9 a.m. I have to get going. But I'm going to meme first, having borrowed it from jewelsong because I don't really want to work...

( Read more... )

This is ridiculous

what am I doing here
I'm in the wrong story!

I pack a little, carry stuff down the *&^%$! stairs, come back up, check lj while I catch my breath... start over...

If anyone's not busy working, do me a favor and point me in the direction of some drabbles... I can't get in trouble reading a hundred words in a five minute break...can I?

This is ridiculous

what am I doing here
I'm in the wrong story!

I pack a little, carry stuff down the *&^%$! stairs, come back up, check lj while I catch my breath... start over...

If anyone's not busy working, do me a favor and point me in the direction of some drabbles... I can't get in trouble reading a hundred words in a five minute break...can I?

drabble to hold y'all until I unpack the computer...

Homesick

All he wanted to do was curl up again on the lumpy ticking of the bed he had once shared with his brothers, with the quilt his mother had made wrapped high over his shoulders and the starlight showing dim through the tiny window on the far wall. No featherbed had ever been sweeter, not in the palace of the King, nor even in the storied halls of Rivendell, than lying in the well-known darkness and listening to the familiar grumble of voices and the slap of cards as the old hobbits talked in the kitchen deep into the night.



( links )

drabble to hold y'all until I unpack the computer...

Homesick

All he wanted to do was curl up again on the lumpy ticking of the bed he had once shared with his brothers, with the quilt his mother had made wrapped high over his shoulders and the starlight showing dim through the tiny window on the far wall. No featherbed had ever been sweeter, not in the palace of the King, nor even in the storied halls of Rivendell, than lying in the well-known darkness and listening to the familiar grumble of voices and the slap of cards as the old hobbits talked in the kitchen deep into the night.



( links )