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briarwall.bsky.social
Mother of Voids. 🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛ Wife of Mr. Wall. Always reading. Sometimes cooking. Autodidact. Literally allergic to the sun.
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It’s so weird knowing absolute horror and chaos is unfolding elsewhere and it be totally calm around you. If this storm happened two weeks later, my dad would have already moved to Tampa and it would be a whole different level.

Today I used the stove and oven and saw my burned hands and made the choice to use oven mitts every time. No added burns. I’m so proud of myself.

Let’s goooo!

Baked peaches for the win.

Goose Creek needs to give its candle names another pass.

Duolingo made my avatar, like, wayyy too delighted at the very idea of “a pizza.”

My cat is snoring and it’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.

I’ve just been doing math on how to get the cost of a chicken pot pie down from $21.32 to $12.58. So that’s how my night’s going, how’s yours?

I just input the last chart at my job. The doctor is retiring next week. This makes it feel real.

I’m reading a tense book where a protagonist is about to fend off an attack and then get completely taken out of the scene: “Roxanne readied herself and grasped the hamster firmly.” Hammer, genius. She grasped a hammer.

Okay, I just reheated my crescent roll chicken pot pie and it officially slaps. The reheat is the real test.

I got a sugar burn. It’s been a minute since I had one, but DANG it is rough. Then I continued to make dessert, because I’m a badass like that.

Okay, so I made a chicken pot pie, but I was out of crust, so I went with crescent rolls, and I’m not mad at it.