“Fish fingers and custard” refers, of course, to my new nausea-or-hunger? problem. Much like Eleven in wee Amy Pond’s kitchen, I have cravings, but no idea what’ll actually go down okay. No, I do not intend to try the eponymous combination.
And “oh yes Wikipedia” is a bit of a lament for my childhood innocence. I should not reread the Little House books, then go Google the Ingalls family. I might, for instance, conclude from the repeated unexplained deaths of baby boys in the family/profusion of girls that there is some kind of X-linked disorder running in that line. *facepalm* Would love to know whether anyone else drew that same conclusion, or if my genetics geekery will someday make a great pop-science article.
Today, I need to get out the black thread and a) secure the buttons (ALL OF THE BUTTONS) on my black jacket for fall and b) attempt to repair that lovely gathered black headband of mine that I accidentally un-gathered while removing the tag. Oops. And clumsy construction, H&M.