Run, shower, palak paneer all acheived. Now it's victory or death on this fucking epic fantasy revision.

True love: when you yell "EVERY LAST INCH OF ME'S COVERED IN HAIR" down the hall, and your child yells back (from the loo) "BITCH, PLEASE"...

So if you don't like my politics, you're not going to enjoy my books, and you can move right along. I'm not writing for you. We won't miss each other. Just go.

Taking the high road when someone's trying to catsplain one of your besties is exhausting.

Keep trying, dude. You're howling into the wasteland of my mute button.

You're taking in HOW MUCH money and you can't even get payments to the creators your whole business is built on in a reasonable fashion months after you know there's a problem? Really?

Welp, all the work I did setting something up this morning was wasted.

But I learned a lot, right? Right?

This is an empty dispenser for the antibacterial soap that worked best for Odd’s yeasty paws. It’s been sitting in the windowsill for a week.

I can’t let go yet.

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Ragged Feathers

Hello, this is Ragged Feathers. We talk about writing, art, dogs, tea, knitting, weather, science, literature, history, and other cool things. Your host is Lili Saintcrow. Come in and have a beverage; be excellent to each other.