When my mom calls, I feel like it's because she has a preternatural ability to contact me right as I'm about to engage in a task. It's a skill, and she has mastered it. The moment a task is about to begin, as soon as the mise en place has been… you know, placed, a communique from my Creator bores into the proceedings. I think I have inherited her uncanny knack for auguring into otherwise useful moments, because when I call my own child - who is not a child, I must remind myself, but a legal adult - they act like I'm trying to sell them a timeshare.
Because I understand both sides of the equation now, I can't really get too bothered about it. It's not really about me, none of it is, and it's going to be less and less about me as time progresses. Unless they need something! In which case I will materialize briefly o'erhead, like a cloud.
I went from high school to a few months of wastreldom to fixing computers, so I never had this middle period. What would it be like to have a "meal plan" where "dining dollars" are hoarded in some vault and I can have pizza at midnight, paid for by the aelves? I can't see how you don't get in trouble with something like this, holy shit. You're out there in a place where God can't see you, and under such conditions, we know: nocturnal hungers rise. But they're good. They seem like they're doing good? They ain't starving, at any rate. Jesus!
Our friends - literal, IRL friends - at Dire Wolf just added a couple days to their Last Chance Pre-Order, making this your Last Chance at a Last Chance Pre-Order. I'm waiting for my copy too!
I have thus far been strong enough to resist the metal coins and cubes, but the flesh is weak. It's fucking weak!
(CW)TB out.
