Thursday morning

Not that Xander really needed another shower just to make sure all the slime was out of his hair? But... it was better than spending all day worrying about whether all the slime was out of his hair. Which come to think of it might have distracted him from worrying about other things all day, but it was too late now; you can't unshower.

You can send a text message while you wait for your hair to dry, though. And then an e-mail while you wait for your brain to return from whatever dimension it's currently taking a vacation in.

And then you can do other things besides sitting in front of your laptop waiting for a reply. Like...um. Play Tetris.

And not be at all vaguely disappointed when the New Mail popup turns out to be from ( Willow: )

To which you can reply with wide eyes, wet hair, and disappointment completely replaced by spazz-hands, if you're Xander: ( Dear Willow: )

( Dear Xander: )

*headdesk* - *headdesk* - *headdesk*

( Dear Willow: )

( Dear Xander: )

*headdesk* - *headdesk* - *headdesk* - *headdesk* - *headdesk* - *headdesk* - *don't reply* - *headdesk*

*peek cautiously at inbox when this arrives moments later* ( Dear Xander: )

*sigh* *facedesk*

*head off to Creature Languages*

Thursday Evening, Room 406, 6-ish

There is a closet here. Yeah, yeah, blah blah make your puns while you can. The point is that Xander is standing in front of it. Very very possibly flailing.

__
[Open for someone else who lives here. I'd say open for anybody who wanted to stop by and harrass him, but zomg running late, so no.]