Et voila!

[smokingboot]

Without a moment's fuss, my love scoops up the wreckage of the project, and turns it into a rather goodly thing.

Let's face it, I am a total text monkey.

And a tension addict, as it turns out; I have been working myself up over this for days (words fail me in the expression of how unnecessary this is and how puny a thing to worry at) Yesterday I had a pre-migraine that went away, leaving me wiped out. Last night, I played the usual Vampire-so-worthy-of-praise-it-will-get-me-a-tongue-poking-if-I-mention-it, and the intensity of the whole thing is still with me. If I die within the next two days, forensics will find two words carved upon my heart; 'Miranda,' and 'Saddo.'

I went to bed and dreamt of sitting with my mother eating coffee granules straight out of the jar.

This is perhaps the most straightforward message my psyche has ever given me.