June 7th, 2009 (10:06 pm)
current location:
My room, the flat
It's Sunday evening when I call to ask her to dinner on her birthday. Isn't like I could work out a whole lot else to do that day, seeing as I have to work till five in the evening or so, and wouldn't even be able to go pick up Marley until after I finish. Not that I know for sure, mind, but I reckon she's got work that day too. Besides, if plans go right for the rest of what I'm trying to work out, we'll be making a bigger sorta date of things on a sorta special little short trip to Paris in a few weeks. So, I'm hoping that on Thursday we can at least go to dinner, and that I can give her her presents so that she gets to know she's going to Paris too, and then...Well, we'll just have to see what happens after that, but there are other gifts I know I'd like to give her, if she's interested, and they have nothing to do with anything I can just hand over.
So, since Pig seems a bit tired and snuffly tonight, I drag out my seltefalone and set it on the table and just look at it for a few minutes. There is no love lost between my seltefalone and me. Never has been. We both know this. The thing's got a penchant for calling at random by far the world's crankiest and most obnoxious people whenever I try calling someone I know - and I'm pretty damned sure it reckons that's pretty funny. In fact, I'm sure that if a tefalone could laugh, it'd be guffawing its guts out knowing that I can take down Dark wizards and werewolves, but get so intimidated about a sodding little piece of non-magical nuts and bolts and plastic and metal. ( Tefalones )