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The Windchill Chronicles: Installment 2

Still here, still freezing, though warmer than yesterday, which of course isn't saying much. Managed to find a machine that would take my debit card, and returned to the Katimahouse bearing junkfood and dessert. And butter, because apparently they're not supposed to buy processed food (Yeah, I don't know, either . They instead are expected to buy margarine, one of the most processed things in existence, and also the kind of peanut butter that's two-thirds icing sugar, but not the kind that tastes like peanuts. No idea.). And chocolate milk.

Anyway, the point is that failure is worse than frostbite, and yesterday we had both. Today we were victorious. Hooray!

And now I apparently have to pack up all my stuff and hide it in the locked project manager's room, because they're having an open house and they're concerned that the townsfolk will steal things. They're hiding their laptops and their CDs, as well. (Why let people in the house at all, then? I don't know.)

And then they're kicking us out, so Faya and I have to spend the two hours of the open house in the restaurant across the street. Sigh.

And then we're all going to a pub. Where Kiley will buy us drinks. I like this plan.

Comments

( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
cocoajava
Mar. 8th, 2007 01:10 am (UTC)
The way you speak of the townsfolk, I half expect them to be weilding pitchforks and torches. Beware!

Drinkies, however, are a yay.
chandri
Mar. 8th, 2007 03:06 am (UTC)
Even the locals were hiding their valuables.
It ended up being five people. Two friends of one of the Katimakids, two townsfolk, and one creepy guy in a purple fleece jacket who was supposedly an alumnus and would. Not. Leave. We're not even sure he was an alumnus. He walked in, ate the food, made faces at the food, and then hung around bothering people. We had to delay dessert for like two hours, and nobody even got his name.

Creepy. o.O
cocoajava
Mar. 8th, 2007 06:36 pm (UTC)
Re: Even the locals were hiding their valuables.
VERY creepy. This town sounds like a novel waiting to be written.
( 3 comments — Leave a comment )

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