19.2.11

sg 2.0.

It's not that nothing's happening, it's just the same shit every day. Grinding my poor little fingertips into gross, callused, falling-apart dust in preparation for the reboot of the Sleep Gunner franchise tomorrow.

However: in the kitchen this evening, the apartment is suffused/infused/confused with the massive goodness of a roasting chicken with garlic and rosemary...this is a smell that makes almost everything alright, or some combination of those words.

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