weirdWhen I looked over and they were holding hands in the hot tub, and taking turns ducking under the water, I realized that the sex lives of inch-high simulated spies were among the Secrets Man Was Not Meant To Know. It just figures I have slashy Sims. And that Illya has a crush on Mrs. Peel, and Napoleon nags him about it constantly.
Anyway, Illya and Napoleon have moved in together now. They spent the morning after playing chess for eight solid hours. Don't look at me; I'm just the benevolent God who keeps sending them buckets of money.
Okay, I did buy them the chess board. And the electric guitar. And the hot tub, come to think of it.
In any case, that left #6 free for John Drake, so I have him, the Men from UNCLE, and Mrs. Peel in play, and I mean to bring back Steed, the I Spy guys, and the surviving Mission:Impossible team members tonight. (You will recall that Phelps and Cinnamon perished in a tragic bacon cooking accident early on in the game).
Mr. Drake seems to be settling in nicely. I figure it's only a matter of time before he starts vanishing on long business trips, however, to places with casinos and sea cliffs.
Emma's gardener never waters her plants, I think. I don't know what she pays him for. Maybe she's like a basketball court...
In other news, I am an insane person who intended to go out with the boy to watch meteors tonight, come home, shower, and go to work at four AM.
Anybody want a toke of this crack pipe?
Fortunately for my sanity, my stomach intervened with a gastric complaint, so as soon as I post this, I'm going to bed.
New Words:
Total Words:
Reason for stopping: bed
Mammalian Assistance: There are mammals around here?
Stimulants: grapefruit juice, spearmint tea
Books in progress: Caroline Stevermer, When the King Comes Home.
Books finished: Kathryn Allen, Equal Opportunity.