wherein the writing process contains unexpected turns

Last night I sat down to write a cottoncandy_bingo ficlet involving Nyota Uhura, Christine Chapel, Gaila, and Hikaru Sulu playing cards and gossiping, which would presumably lead into a discussion of Jim Kirk's continuing efforts at gift-knitting and yarnbombing.

Somehow this led to me dealing four hands and playing an entire round of Hearts against myself, acting as all four participants in the game.

My life. What even.

the endless woes of the nearsighted

On my way down the hill from Cornell, the right lens of my glasses popped out. Yes, again.

So I walked home instead of to the public library, whereupon I nearly failed to remove the problem screw, completely failed to get a new screw to refasten the frame around the lens, also failed to use Krazy Glue to repair my backup glasses (the arm had had parted ways with the frame, but not at a screw-joint), and said fuck it and called Empire Vision Works to see if they were still open.

Fortunately they are open until 8pm on Thursdays, and the #15 bus leaves the Seneca St. stop at 6:19pm, and it was only just past 6 o'clock... so I jogged half the trip from my house to the Commons, caught the bus, and was able to get the frame unbent (turns out bent frames put pressure on screws, how surprising!) and a new screw put in for no cost.

Then I picked out a new set of frames and ordered a new pair of glasses, because I want a functional backup pair instead of a pair from, IIRC, seven or eight years ago, which is the pair I ended up wearing for this errand because I had no more recent prescription.

I will get a call when my new glasses are ready sometime next week.

And that's me out another chunk of change. *sigh*

I am beginning to feel like I just cannot win.