Broken clocks and other stories
Crap day. As soon as my flatmate buggers off out of this room I'm attacking a half bottle of cheap red; that'll cheer me up. Canonical alcoholism, if only for an evening. Cliph's depressed too, and we're sitting here trading melancholia through CSD. I'm starting to feel better already - and did I mention that Cliph and I have never met in real life?