Years ago, CD Rogue showed me this photo series a husband took of his wife when she missed the Ice Cream Man.
This was me tonight:
Yes, that’s me, crying under a warlock robe my son put on me when he took pity on my sorry self. I’m doing everything I can to avoid reading blogs about conquests and happiness, while I see from Hearthstone (which I’ve lost repeatedly) my Battletag friends in zones of Garrisons and Joy. Leveling! Happy! Saving Azeroth! Saving Azeroth ALL OVER THE PLACE.
Is this writing one of “those” letters to Blizzard worth it? Is it time to go goblin and demand reparations? I’m just too heartsick. I have to go to bed now because I have a big presentation tomorrow, but do want to stop and wish Tome a VERY happy birthday! Don’t mind me, Tome, while I cry under this blanket, okay?
So what’s a Draenei to do but curl up in a fetal position by the fire on a cold night, and read The Bone Clocks by David Mitchell, and try to get a better attitude? We finally watched Maleficent, but my heart wasn’t really in it. When I went back to check on my queue, I saw the screen, and there smiling like Aurora on a prom date was Mataoka, beckoning me! CLICK CLICK LADY CLICK! AND THUNK – nada. No go.
Crawling back under the blankets now. At least the dust bunnies love me.