Two things.

1) Drinking while watching Sports Night was accomplished without harm to anyone; clearly iuliamentis and I are getting old.

2) Speaking of which: today is my twenty-seventh birthday (and, yes, it's been quite happy so far).

I had a professor, when I was an undergraduate, who opined that twenty-seven is the age at which twentysomething placeholding activities (living at your parents' house, working a McJob, etc.) stopped being charmingly slackery and started being An Issue. For some reason I took this to heart, so as my birthday approached I'd been kind of assessing where I stood in relation to What I Want to Do, and for the most part it's going pretty well: I'm living on my own, I actually personally own the car I'm driving for the first time in my life, I'm working at a professional job in my chosen field, and then, well, then there's writing.

( Cut for self-satisfied nerdery. )

So, in short: \o/