Argh. Dammit all to Hel. Everything is stinky beyond measure, and I am in SUCH a bad mood.
I hate fighting with Sigyn. Well, that’s not right. We’re not exactly fighting. You have to be talking to be fighting. No, we’re doing some sort of relationship rondo: She explains, I lose my temper, she goes teary and quiet, I say something I regret later. D.C. al coda…
It’s all Steve’s fault. Mister Perfect Baker Smiley Man. Faugh! Why did he have to show up around here? I thought Sigyn and I had something wonderful going, but what if he sweeps her off her feet?
I don’t know how to make apple cake.
Double arrgh! I do not know whether to be worried or jealous or angry–or some of each. I do not know whether to beg or apologize or go punch that All-American right in his star-spangled jerkface.
How do I make things right? What should I do? Perhaps it is time to do a little research.
. . . . .
Candy! Apparently it is a Midgardian custom to offer sweetmeats as a token of love and/or remorse. I can do that! The human female happens to have a very cute little box of candy on her desk. Someone gave it to her, but she hasn’t eaten it, so her loss. The tag says “wedding,” though. I know! I will tell her it is to remind her of our lovely wedding. Now I must just go fetch her…
. . . .
Look, Sigyn. Isn’t this lovely?
It’s…uh, because you’re such a blessing in my life. Go on, open it!
It’s…um…full of all sorts of foreign sweets! Do you like them? Go on, try one!
नमस्कार! तपाईं वेनिला क्यान्डी प्रयास गरेका छन् गर्नुपर्छ। यो स्वादिष्ट थियो।