Skittle update
Er... I now feel a bit fraudulent getting you all worked up about the cute kitteh.
Thing number one, Skittle is not a girl. Skittle is a boy.
Thing number two, Skittle is actually called Ernie, and... as it turned out when the vet discovered the microchip, was a LYING RUNAWAY IMPOSTER. So he's gone back to his real owners, the bastards.
Damn microchips, reuniting people with their much-loved pets. *growl*
Thing number one, Skittle is not a girl. Skittle is a boy.
Thing number two, Skittle is actually called Ernie, and... as it turned out when the vet discovered the microchip, was a LYING RUNAWAY IMPOSTER. So he's gone back to his real owners, the bastards.
Damn microchips, reuniting people with their much-loved pets. *growl*
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Argh, good luck with the moving! I've moved house 12 times in my life, and 10 of those were in the last 14 years as an independent adult-type person. To start with I'd basically just pack a couple of bags and merrily troop off to the shared student hovel, but each move has become a teensy bit more stressful as I've gradually acquired more stuff. I've now filled a two-bedroom house with this *stuff*, all of it mine, and the idea of moving fills me with cold dread.
And this is without the added stress of buying/selling.
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The Comprehensive Spending Review fills me with cold, cold dread.
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