Sep. 22nd, 2004

peterjackson: (Default)
Hugo: Early afternoon finds me pacing my living room, startling Imladris repeatedly from her sun-drenched nap until she leaves me for the study. I'm feeling a bit trapped in this place, a little stir-crazy. I've called my kids, balanced my checkbook, cleaned the kitchen, showered and wanked, called the grocery store to have a few things delivered tomorrow, and now I'm as spinning as ever within my own thoughts. That won't do so I snag my keys from the shallow plate near the door and drive, not knowing exactly where I'm going. It takes only two trips around Wellie to realise this is not helping so I check my location and note I'm not far from someone I haven't seen in quite a while. I pull into the drive and hope to find him at home, for all I know he's off doing something ... director-y.

Pete: I'm flopped back, dozing and daydreaming on the couch, a tomato-pasta-basil-cheese Frankenstein of a soup left simmering on the stove. I really should have had an Igor around for creating that one, it's untouched by any conventional recipe yet written. Hmm, should have written it down, oh well, it's to be enjoyed once, and then you move on to the next meal.

So, what's on your mind today besides the lazy breezes unencumbered by the hindrance of a hairline? )

December 2006

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