Molly Ivins died yesterday. I spent last night reading her books and sniffling quietly to myself.
Maybe it’s just this news coming in the middle of my general malaise, which might or might not be related to just passing what’s apparently the most depressing day of the year but it’s really affecting me.
Life isn’t fair.
Phoo.
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(I knitted a fuzzy, purple, purse-or-pocket sized womb from my stash. It makes me happy. If you put beans inside, it makes noises. I've always wanted a noisy womb.)
If it makes you feel any better at all, it's really fucking cold here, and my skin is flaking completely off of my body in huge chunks.
Man.
That's just what I needed to hear after this lousy week.
R.A.W. and Molly Ivins within 10 days.
(sigh)
TUO!