1 Mulligan for a Catch the the Sox Couldn't Make (well, this one among others)

I've always had a bit of a issue with retreating too far back in my head. In an indistinct instant, the whole space-time thing can get sucked inside a just-a-bit-too-dark paint fleckie on a doorframe and SLLLURP... I'm off in medieval faerie space, left with nothing but a blank stare and a mouth fit for catching leftover pixiedust (or, yes... flies, beetles, what-have-you).

I'm not sure where I go on these little jetpack journeys; and if I knew, I'm even less sure that I would tell you.

But over the past few weeks I've been losing my consciousness sooo far back that I swear I forget where I am for a solid 1-2 hours a pop.

I was standing in my kitchen tonight, lit by only the sliver of light spying in from underneath the shade, my peripheral vision nearly drowning in a browning carrot shard, and I caught my head right before it left to go elsewhere.
Scariest fucking thing.

I never want to catch myself again;
basically, it's the best survival skill I know.


[Also, this is a flickriffic "fluffy goat" from brokengod. It's perfect.]