Third floor bathroom - Thursday afternoon - 6/12

[new-to-liirness.livejournal.com]

I have too damned many clothes, Liir decided as he carried his things toward the bathrooms.

Between one thing and another, he hadn't done his laundry in far too long (at least by his reckoning) and now he literally had at least an armful and a half of clothes that required washing. The soap and the scrub brush rested on the top, just under his chin, until he made his way to the tub and put everything down. Two twists of hot for every twist of cold and the tub filled up quickly as he dipped the brush and the soap in to start on the lighter shades.

He'd be here for a while.

[open!]

Second Floor Common Room; Thursday Lunchtime.

[stocksgrrl.livejournal.com]

There was revenge on the horizon for Turtle Wexler, and the market had made record gains this week. Typically, as she sat curled up on the couch, watching them report on the gains on CNN, Turtle would be very pleased with herself and the world, and in a generally good mood. But her eyes on the television set were distinctly dull and down, and, above all, worried. For, alas, not even record gains in the stock market could make Turtle's mood better in light of the conclusion she had reached this morning as she thought about it over the Wall Street Journal after her workshop.

Yesterday, Jeff had said that he wanted to talk, and there hadn't been a straight answer as to whether or not it was a good talk or a bad talk. It depended on her, he said, and then wouldn't talk about it, because soc-- football was on. Needless to say, this made Turtle rather nervous.

But then she had to go and think about it, and it only got worse from there. Of course it was bad. If it was good, he would have just said it was good. But he was trying to cover that it was bad. And, in the recent weeks, there was the whole thing with the closet, and then, oh, God, that night the squirrels slipped her rum and she got drunk and tried to...and then...

Green arrows flashed across the marquee at the bottom of the screen, but they held none of their usual consolation. Not under the realization that it was crystal clear and quite obvious.

He was going to break up with her.

He. Was going to break up. With her!

You didn't dump Turtle Wexler! You couldn't!

...

...She'd be really, really ticked off about the whole thing if she wasn't so devistated.

But, hey. At least stocks were up, right?


[[ this = what happens when someone leaves the TV in the workout room on CNBC while I'm working out. Open, open, open, of course! ]]