oh boy

Avoidance of nightmares+sleep schedule screwiness+fiction and particular voices floating round in my head=Charlie staying up wicked late again. I'm frakked if my family wake up and find me still down here, clicking away.

some things just need to be written though.

And tonight's thunderboomers proved yet again that Bosco does *not* like storms. The poor fuzzball gets all nervous and clingy, and according to my family he was all whimpery the night the storm line came through the area while they were looking after him. Aww. Storms=passed, fuzzy dog=curled up in the hallway upstairs, zonked out and snoring. So everything's since settled, which is good.

Must go scribble fic.