Gods . . . Slept until 2pm again. Not good. I'm gonna melt into sludge one day.
Hung out with Ha at Grossmont Centre yesterday. It was fun.
She showed up while I was writing a bit for my novel and I stopped right after a character asked something of another character. So, naturally, ever since then, my mind has been turning over what the response ought to be to the question. And I wonder if having had this much time to think about it shall help or hinder the bit.
Watched "The Devil's Foot" episode of the Jeremy Brett Sherlock Holmes last night, which was entirely more gloomy than I remember the short story being. But that's okay.
Dreamt about Jeremy Brett haunting a little girl.