chapter eight: packing and sorting

This weekend I shall be playing some fraction of eight games of Ultimate, in the wind and rain and 50-degree cold. Sweet.

(This is probably an advantage. The rain will handicap the other teams and make it more even because we're (hopefully) the youngest and fastest there. *crosses fingers* *won't be able to tomorrow because of the cold*)

And then drunken Halloween parties on Saturday night. Well, one party anyway. Welcome to Canada, and the crazy-ass sport of frisbee...

I have to pack, somehow; I have to work on my Descartes paper; I have to find food for dinner tonight; I have an overdrawn bank account (g'dammit!) and I don't know how that happened, but I refuse to worry about it now, because there isn't anything I can do anyway.


Packing! Homework! Now! *goes*

Aw, darnit...

I can't be Spot; I forgot my key. Also my suspenders are black, and I don't have a checkered shirt, nor a nifty cane.

(Mmm...next year, who's up for actually making a group of as many Newsies as we can? I call Spot for real!)