tired and wired we ruin too easy, sleep in our clothes and wait for winter to leave

I bought some earrings in Winchester, and then tried for 24 hours to take a blurry picture of them. This early morning no-makeup last-night's-hair was the ticket.

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Last night at the bar, I went out onto the roof to look at the moon. A scummy, too-drunk guy peeled off a group, to come bother me the way a scummy, too-drunk guy always will when he sees a woman even temporarily unaccompanied. Like most people with bad taste, he used the excuse of my having a visible tattoo to assume that I was willing, and even eager to be interrogated about "what is it even" and have my body touched and commented on by a total stranger.

That's something I never expected when I got my first tattoo, that people would do that. Now instead of explaining the backstory and meaning of my tattoo, I just say "it's the world serpent, like from Norse mythology. The one who swallows the Worldtree."

His immediate comment was "Why would a pretty girl like you want that on her body forever?"

Because I slew and ate the world serpent, you impotent milksop.

Later that same night, Travis said "Why do you smell amazing, like sawdust?!"

I told him it was my perfume. (Which it was indeed: Santal 33: woodshop, cedarwood, vanilla). Then he told me I was dressed like Yan. (I was indeed wearing a snake dress.)

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Made duck tonight, something I love to cook:

Egg moon. View.