September 30, 1892

Ok. This weekend. Four PM. Hog's Head. Regularly, well... I'll try. We both know it's not my strongest suit, but I can try to send something out with breakfast.

Er. I don't think you'll like it.  But if you want to look at it, you can. It would probably be best if you did, actually. So you can tell me it's a bad idea. And I do trust you, with my life. And my life choices. I guess I need you to tell me if it's a good idea? Bad idea? I don't even know what I want right now. I just don't want to be here.

His name is Phil, after nothing in particular. And yes, that scarf although I don't think it's ratty. Just.... well loved. No, please don't strangle QB. It's time for a new one, isn't it? I got that one my first year and well, I don't want Phil's little paw to get stuck in one of the holes. Not that it has any! Well-loved. It's well-loved. 

I plan on bringing the rest of my Zalatimo Sweets to share while I tell you my woes. Oh Sof, I wish you could have been there to know the details.

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