In order to shop where I want, I must move overseas. Makes perfect sense.
I’m not kidding. I *loved* all the stores in Germany. The people were helpful, even after I proved to be a dumb ass by not knowing a single lick of German anything aside from ‘hi’ ‘bye’ and ‘thank you’. Oh, and house shoes. Because I’m cool like that.
All kidding aside, I just like their stuff better. Aside from what I knit/sew myself, I find myself liking the across the pond designs and garments a lot more than what I find offered in the U.S. Which I’m sure means I’m horrible.
I’ve got five days to finish my story. Five. One hundred and twenty hours. And that’s assuming I was up and moving since midnight last night, which I wasn’t.
Crap.
Think the muse will believe me if I tell them that Thunder Butt ate the manuscript? I didn’t think so, but it doesn’t hurt to try.
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