Happy new year, and welcome to 2017!

I have the heat turned well up but i'm still cold. I'd better not be getting sick. Seeing Rogue One again yesterday afternoon was awesome. At some point I'll have something coherent to say about that movie, but it may not be today.

I've calmed down about the LJ servers moving to Russia thing. My biggest concern at this point is that SUP, the owners of LiveJournal, might decide to someday close down the English language blogs altogether, not for political reasons but because they're no longer profitable. But we'll deal with that when and if it happens.

At this point, I'm pretty much skimming LJ/DW entries and quickly scrolling past anything political, because reading it ratchets up my anxiety big time.

I am wearing my BC SPCA "The best things in life aren't things" sweatshirt, and I'm cold anyway. This is a warm and fluffy sweatshirt.

Young Miss Weaver continues to be a good cat. We both woke up around midnight last night, because the neighbours were making noise and someone in the distance was setting off fireworks. She went and look out the window, then shook her head and walked back down the bed to settle back down on my feet.

P.S. Oh, and if we could please have fewer deaths of people involved in the arts in 2017 than we did in 2016, that would be great.

Well, 2017 is starting out just GREAT

I was sitting on the sofa reading a book about an hour ago. The sofa is in the living room. The cat was also in the living room. All of a sudden, with no warning, there was a horrendous sounding crashing noise from the bedroom. Young Miss Weaver (the traitor) disappeared under the sofa. I grabbed my phone and peered into the bedroom very tentatively, half-expecting that either a burglar or a tree had come through the bedroom window. Nope. One of the folding doors on the bedroom closet had come off its hinges and gone crashing to the floor, and had gouged scratches in the painted finish of the remaining folding door as it went.

I suppose it could've been worse, but not a single soul, either human or animal, was in that room when the door went, and the window wasn't open, so I can't blame a gust of wind. Do I have a poltergeist? Of course, the rational explanation is that the hinges had, unbeknownst to me, been quietly failing for weeks or months, and they finally gave out altogether an hour ago. But I prefer the idea of a poltergeist. It's much more dramatic.

In other news, I am unable to find any Rogue One icons on Livejournal. Lots on Tumblr, but Tumblr icons are a different size. Tomorrow I will look on Dreamwidth. Assuming I still have an apartment, that is, and that the roof doesn't cave in on me in the night. If I never post again, you'll know why. Um, this sort of attitude could be why my Grade 1 teacher told my mother I was "dramatic".