I don't know why I can't get my shit together to do these on Friday morning anymore, guys. It's not like the weasel-beasts aren't in exactly the same position come dawn and dusk:
You didn’t used to have to think about / cater to Kick first. It’s fine, A. Cute wee beastie.
(Hope Kick’s ok.)
“Y U wake me up?”
Kick’s good. Kick sleeps like a rock. Kick does really well. Seriously, people are like, “Doesn’t she let you sleep?” and she lets me sleep. I don’t let me sleep. The insomnia’s been this bad before but not since college and back then I could box-wine myself into unconsciousness.
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