There's probably a legitimate way to determine which homes are actually vacant, but security - who knows how long that will take. Do you know where Ron and Justin and Hydra and Sally Anne are planning to live? Maybe we could all be neighbours, or something.
And that's precisely the problem with 12G. Just when I start to think of how comfortable it sounds, I realise all the ways that it will be different. Who'll do the late night baking? And who - it just won't feel like it did, before. That's all.
Funny you ask that about Russell, as I've just got back from doing his shopping. First off, his flat is a small bedsit but has quite comfortable furnishings because they came from his parents (who are both dead, as you recall). His mother must've made quilts because he has a trunk full of them, all ornate and well made (he packed up two of them to take to Austria, when he leaves). He's also got a small but decent library of all the wizarding classics, which he says he reads so that he can converse properly with the club members. He takes all the papers for the same reason. For food he mostly eats tinned things on toast, so I bought a load of tinned things at the shop. Beans, tomatoes, and these sausages that are probably mostly made out of some kind of transfigured starch - turnips or parsnips, maybe. And a loaf of wholemeal bread, some eggs, a wedge of fairly tasteless cheddar, and tea. When Russell works a full shift he gets one meal from the kitchens, but nothing too fancy, just sandwiches, soups, and pies, but at least it's made from fresh ingredients.
He's not fat, but he's got no exercise regimen whatsoever, which makes it peculiar to transform back to my own body at night. It always feels very light and strong by comparison, like that of an all-star Quidditcher. I think on his Sunday off I'll be sure to get some training in, because it's a little concerning to think of what's happening to my own body when I'm not using it.
So you're telling me that when your boyfriend is absent, you think about him having a rash or picking up an embarrassing salve? Have you yet thought about the fact that when I go to the toilet I am, quite literally, wiping another man's arse? This really is a terribly exotic assignment, isn't it? Oh, but I'm ignoring the bald spot, though, since Russell seemed rather insistent that he didn't have one.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2015-07-22 10:43 pm (UTC)And that's precisely the problem with 12G. Just when I start to think of how comfortable it sounds, I realise all the ways that it will be different. Who'll do the late night baking? And who - it just won't feel like it did, before. That's all.
Funny you ask that about Russell, as I've just got back from doing his shopping. First off, his flat is a small bedsit but has quite comfortable furnishings because they came from his parents (who are both dead, as you recall). His mother must've made quilts because he has a trunk full of them, all ornate and well made (he packed up two of them to take to Austria, when he leaves). He's also got a small but decent library of all the wizarding classics, which he says he reads so that he can converse properly with the club members. He takes all the papers for the same reason. For food he mostly eats tinned things on toast, so I bought a load of tinned things at the shop. Beans, tomatoes, and these sausages that are probably mostly made out of some kind of transfigured starch - turnips or parsnips, maybe. And a loaf of wholemeal bread, some eggs, a wedge of fairly tasteless cheddar, and tea. When Russell works a full shift he gets one meal from the kitchens, but nothing too fancy, just sandwiches, soups, and pies, but at least it's made from fresh ingredients.
He's not fat, but he's got no exercise regimen whatsoever, which makes it peculiar to transform back to my own body at night. It always feels very light and strong by comparison, like that of an all-star Quidditcher. I think on his Sunday off I'll be sure to get some training in, because it's a little concerning to think of what's happening to my own body when I'm not using it.
So you're telling me that when your boyfriend is absent, you think about him having a rash or picking up an embarrassing salve? Have you yet thought about the fact that when I go to the toilet I am, quite literally, wiping another man's arse? This really is a terribly exotic assignment, isn't it? Oh, but I'm ignoring the bald spot, though, since Russell seemed rather insistent that he didn't have one.