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Recap Episode
SSar's Beast
It occurs to me that whenever I write in this journal, I tend to take it for granted that anyone who might read it already knows quite a lot about me, and so I leave a lot of description out. But I like description. And not everyone on my friends list is from my 'real' life.

So I'm SSar, twenty, in New Zealand in Wellington in a small-ish room with a high ceiling sitting at a low-budget desk with a computer my Dad's friend fixed up for me. Hanging down the wall beside me is a chain of wooden birds (thanks Pip!), and directly in front of me, a spray-painted silver plywood star, with an arrangement of glitter that gives it a very quizzical expression, is staring down at me. Avie made it. Lar painted the phoenix picture that my bunk bed half-obscures on the opposite wall. But if I were to describe the negative art space it would take a lot longer, because I have plans to decorate this room - and I surely need them.

Down the hall, Sam is making lasagne. It smells tasty. We just got back from an enormous shopping trip to get milk-eggs-weetbix-bacon-vegemite-gladwrap-jam-cornflakes-sugar-councilrubbishbags-instantsoup-fruitjuice-coffee-margerine-scrubbiecloths-plasticcheese-etc. The aisles were full of other student flat groups, some sitting in their trollies with happy, hungry, expectant smiles.

Sam has been my flatmate for almost a full year now. I moved into Mamari St with Sam and Fezz and Josh in June last year, but before June I spent almost all of my time hanging out with Sam. Sam was my girlfriend then. I consider it brave that I typed that because I am wary of the mention of relationships on my LJ. Sam is now one of my closest friends. Things change, but still stay generally good.

Hopefully, Bex and Fezz will also come home to eat the lasagne since Sam mentioned that she was making it yesterday. Like Sam, both of these people are older than me. Bex's birthday is very shortly after mine, so it was somewhat logical that Sam and Fezz should give us Brii as a birthday present this year. Brii is our cat.

Brii is also one of the three silly reasons I have for screaming in the kitchen, over the last few days. I shrieked because, as usual, she practised her thwarted tree-climbing skills on me. Run, jump, claw your way up to the human's shoulder. I was wearing a singlet.

Two days ago:
SSar: "Look, you can see a yin-yang symbol on her shoulder."
Sam: "And there's a horseshoe shape on the other side."
Craig appears to be very impressed.
Craig: "My word. I can see the Virgin Mary!"

We will not discuss Craig any further here. (Irrelevantly, Craig is the only person mentioned above who does not have an LJ.) We will discuss Fezz.

Fezz runs on pure sugar. Earlier today...

As I typed that, Sam, who is looking over my shoulder, started to giggle in anticipation of all the things that Fezz MIGHT have got up to today, related to sugar. Inspired by her example, I am not going to say what Fezz did earlier today because it's banal compared to what you might legitimately imagine.

Ahah! A Bex! Emerging from her room! I told you the lasagne smells good. Leaning off my bunk-bed ladder, about halfway up, she inquires how I can sleep safe at night, considering that I'm resting on something SHE largely put together. This is true. When my cherished bed arrived, I was at Uni, and my flatmates decided to construct it for me. It was incredibly sweet of them. I am not sure how to answer Bex's question, however...

Bex complements Grant very well. When I say Grant I mean Fezz. Last night we all somehow ended up in colour-coded nightclothes, and Bex in her white dressing gown, dubbed a White Mage, took this idea and ran with it. This led to a hyperactive White Mage chasing a green-robed Druid!Fezz up and down the hall screaming, "SLEEP! SLEEP!" ...Not something I bothered to attempt just then.

It is ten past nine and generally I start to prepare for bed around now. This is a bit contrary to my nature, which lowers my success rate. I only aim to sleep at this time because I have to get up at 5:15am on six days of the week. For eleven more days only... Because soon, New Zealand Post will have absolutely no claim on me. I have resigned, and not only will I be generally more alert, I will be a nicer person.

Of course, I said that about Brii too. "You will not recognise CatOwner!SSar! She will be infinitely more wonderful." But it was my birthday then and I hate my birthday and New Zealand Post was driving me up the wall and crashing me into the ceiling. Not to mention what the SPCA was doing. (There are already two journal entries devoted to that.) And yet. It feels like a prediction I can make true.

As far as nicer people go, I have had a good week. Tara and Nic moved into their new place and Sam, Helen and I went to visit them. It was cold and windy and raining and HAILING and the bucket didn't really fit on my head, but that only gave us an excuse to huddle in their bedroom and joke for a while.

Cordelia made an unexpected appearance and announced that she had plans to send me snail mail.

!!! Lasagne is ready. I will continue this later.

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Huh. That reminds me. I need to go see Nic at his new home and have him set his kitchen on fire.

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