"Luckily, the baby won't remember his father being baffled by his existence those first few weeks."

Evie and I meant to go to bed. Instead, we ended up having a twenty minute conversation about the logistics of Discworld werewolf pregnancies.

Well, it started out as that. It later moved on to more bizarre topics.

Wait, no, let me clarify. It started because our puppy often makes noises that sound like a very small wolverine. Random, rabid wolverine yowls out of absolutely nowhere.

I'm sure those of you who follow outsideinn can see where this is going.

Yes. There was conversation about werewolf pregnancies. And baby shifting. And... puppies. Lots of puppies. And a very, very confused Logan.

I fear us.

Descant is, in fact, the weakest link.

Apparently, I can't get anything done today. I keep trying to make icons, or write, or something, and then...

I don't know. I get distracted by Doctor Who spoilers (which I keep saying I'm going to avoid, but somehow it just doesn't work out that way... though at least this time around they're spoilers I like), or by Martha and the Doctor and Des being absolutely ridiculous... well, the boys being ridiculous, Martha being kickass and awesome as usual (and reinforcing my shipping of the three of them) and I can't even manage to write tags beyond that one thread...

Oh, or by my damn puppy trying to be as obnoxious as possible. Some days she sleeps all day, and some days she is like a tornado covered in fur. Why the hell isn't there any middle ground with her?

Right. Writing. I was going to do that. If I can just get my brain to actually work. Mrrh.

It doesn't help that I'm randomly overemotional and keep almost bursting into tears for no earthly reason... I think I need tea. Or ice cream. Or alcohol. Or... some combination of those things, though hopefully not at once, because that just sounds... not at all pleasant.