(no subject)

Maaaaaaaaaan.

I know I'm supposed to be, but I'm fucking shattered. Seriously.

It gets so that the tiredness has a tangible taste to it.

oof. I should probably get in a bath or something, I think I may has a flavr.

(no subject)

ARGH.

FUCK!

Ok, ok, ok, get the insect people on the phone, we HAVE to be able to sort this out.

I want - and I don't think this is irrational - a fucking cease-fire for just ONE place in the world.

The bathroom. MY bathroom.

I'm prepared to stop putting down ant-powder, or spritzing bugs with toxic deoderant in exchange for this. Hell, at this point, I would consider some sort of deal in which the Wasp People got to use my garage for the summer* but there is nothing quite so uniquely just fucking WRONG in the universe as having to bail, screaming, out of the bathroom, pants-round-ankles because a bumble-bee THE SIZE OF CAMDEN has just lazily bopped into the window and fell onto the side where it's now thoughtfully appraising your choice of aftershave.

Seriously, this has to stop. Let's be grown-ups about this.


*the have a lot of stuff they should really put on eBay, to be honest