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Calling from the past… | Whirling into the future…

ICE.

 

An ice storm is barrelling down on the area. I've hunkered down with an absurd amount of bread and milk, as Midwesterners tend to do when these things happen. I'm prepared for the worst but hoping for the best. Any kind of help is appreciated; being in the dead of winter in a hotel? It's no way to make a living.


Hours...hours...well, those are a little less on the sunny side of life. It's the slow season, though, and that's to be expected. The slow season is always kind of ugly. It's going to especially be ugly on bills.


To top it off, the freeze is going to keep me from going to this place I've been told to go to by my therapist: it's out of the way and right in the way of the freeze area. I've also been told to start getting my legal in order: their disregard of my pronouns is officially illegal and I can now officially call them on it. Them being work. There's a lot of things to take care of. (Help. Lol.)

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