The Question Game

I've been thinking about doing this for a while now, but it was rlly my BF who convinced me too.

This is called the Question Game. You comment and ask me a question. It can be anything: funny, humorous, racy, serious, embarrassing, whatever. I have to answer it honestly. The catch is that I get to ask you a question, and you have to answer it also. We go back and forth like that until someone gives up or we get tired of playing.

Ready? Go!

Precog!

I mean, I don't have much. Unlike lacha, who has oodles of it falling out her ears, I have almost none of this kind of power at all. But every so often, I will have a true dream. Of course, I don't often remember that I had the dream until it happens.

So I was talking to my coworker, and we were talking about the extra bit of software that we'd need if I didn't want to have to pull data off this probe* manually every three hours, and I said the words, "You know, we can mount it."

And then I stopped, because I'd just had one of those moments when I realize that I've had precog about this sometime ago. Normally it's not useful because that's it, but as it turns out there's more to this, involving breadbox-sized machinery on a cart and a rusty screw. (It's a corrosion lab, things rust.) So I'm waiting to see if it's now or later and involving more brake rotors.

In bad news, the bone marrow people want another couple vials of blood, apparently so they can see whether or not recipient tissue rejects it. You'd think they could have taken this last Friday . . .

*It measures heat. It can be screwed to the wall.