At the end of a 13 hour day, I'm slumped on my bed, laptop on chest, waiting for the lullabies of Jimi Hendrix lull me to sleep. Since I'm only 97% asleep, here's what's occupying the 3% of my brain that's keeping me awake.
A certain he-who-must-not be named (not Voldemort, but close) finally decided to visit California after...forever (there's a post about the day he left, waaaay back in the blog). I was not notified of this visit. I only knew about it because my sister saw that he'd posted a Facebook status about it, and tagged the people he wanted to see (mature). Though I don't have much to say to him (well, I do, but none of it's nice), and I didn't really want to see him face to face, I wanted him to ask to see me so I could turn him down.
Is that awful of me? Eh. I think he did his fair share of awful things back in the day, and frankly, it's a moot point, because you can't turn down an invitation you don't receive. I guess he wins this round.
And now that I've (oh-so-vaguely) vented, hopefully I'll be able to sleep.
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