kiya

I'm a firebug. One of the best things about visiting my father this time of year is that he's got the giant fireplace and often has a fire going in it and I can poke at it.

My model of the universe is one in which people have matches. And books. I get confused easily when these subconscious axioms are shaken. :}


I don't have a problem with "Happy [my holiday]" as a response to "Happy [other person's holiday]"; what's good for the goose, y'know? But I run into folks who respond to "Happy [other holiday]" with a deliberately pointed "Happy [different holiday]" and it drives me bugfuck insane. Not just because it feeds into the "All December holidays are cheap Christmas knockoffs" presumptions by making a one-to-one substitution again, though that's bad enough.

But damnit, I was a fucking astronomy major. I flunked out of college, but when I was in it, I was a fucking astronomy major. And even when the solstice is late, it is over by the twenty-sixth of December. Damnit.

(Have I mentioned that I've been having suspicions that I actually hang out with Hethert-Nut? :P )

Preaching to the choir, I know. Or at least preaching to the agreeably cranky . . .