Men are From Freeport, Women are from Qeynos

I decide that the only option is to grab my gaming notebook and my headset because there is no way I will be able to go back to sleep; I am awake now. When I slip off the bed and grab my 'puter I also grab the bag of Sunsweet dried cherries that is poking out of my purse. They are not really dried cherries, they are sorta-dried cherries, being chewy rather than crunchy, which is good. I can eat them and the noise won't wake anyone up.
After carefully plugging in my headset and mic I boot my notebook and, while it does its thing I grab the extra pillows that I keep under the bed and build a comfie nest for myself. I want to play an MMO but as I am not feeling especially space-captainy this morning SWG and STO are out; the idea of riding my horse through flower-filled valleys as butterflies flit through the grass to the background song of birds singing while I bash the brains out of some Gnolls for light entertainment appeals, so Everquest 2 it is!
I remind myself that I should spend some time in Galaxies considering that this December it is shutting down for good, and I know I will miss my characters and the massive amount of stuff I have accumulated in that game. I wish that there was a way to take that all with me when it ends, but then I said the same thing about The Matrix Online. Sigh.
As soon as I run the Station Launcher it tells me that it has to patch; I remember that I have not played EQ2 in months, which means that the game will have to patch before I can log in too. While EQ2 is patching I load Minesweeper and start working my way through the field on expert, and I double-click my email program -- we don't call it an "app" anymore, that's now an Apple thing -- and I see that among the new messages is one from my friend who likes to email lists that she finds on the web.
The patch had a while to go yet so I put on my Ninja slippers and made my way stealthily through the house to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water and a Diet Mt. Dew from the fridge, and then Ninja'd back to my bed, the click-click-click of my dog's nails on the floor being the only sound, because I am Ninja-silent but Sir George Waggy Tail is not, and he follows me everywhere.
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