I wish I had better news. I wish I didn’t have a teeny-tiny hangover from two big-gulp sized Grey Goose dirty martinis. I wish I had gotten more sleep. What I wanted to report this morning was a surprise, that my latest Ironman project had reached level 15 safe and sound, but alas…not meant to be.
Hachette and Lapinou, her wolf, had risen the ranks through thick and thin, with one narrow escape in Westfall and otherwise, enjoying a certain amount of pride, and yes, actual enjoyment of trying to figure out what to do in order to make enough coin to even train properly. “She” even took some eggs to market and made some pocket change. And her wolf? A more loyal, spunky, and brave pet one has ever known. Lapinou is a French pet-name which roughly translates to ‘little bunny rabbit,’ a cute name a parent might affectionately call a child.
|She even defeated Hogger!|
|Lapinou drags in a few Riverpaws, but all ended well…that time.|
Ah, but again, the heroine’s hubris is her downfall. With a clown to the left of me, and a joker to the right, she succumbed to the fast-spawning murloc population along the sandy shores of Westfall, and then proceeded to run into countless packs of Riverpaws. Both Hachette and Lapinou were overcome, and there is the health bar depleting faster than hope that gas prices will ever go down. And while I give the report of this latest catastrophe to the sweet joker to my right, he says, “You know, you just don’t have to be good at everything in WoW.” I can’t quite describe his tone, but it was sweet, and caused a minor epiphany on my part. I am not good at anything in WoW! I report this to the clown to my left, in this conversation: