Patron Saint of Falling Over Things

Last night lilacsigil updated our bushfire evacuation plan. Summer is being forecast as WORST EVER for bushfires. They say that every year, but I'm not going to argue.

We need to buy another cat-cage, now that there are three cats. The fast list (for evacuation plan A, aka GET OUT NOW!) is short: us, cats, hardrive, laptop, iPod. Although I am terrified of bushfires, it is comforting to know that life can be simplified to the very basics.

Reminder to self: I really need to get my official documents in order and in one file so that I can pick it up and take it with me. It's sloppy to have them all over the place, and not really know exactly where any one thing is.

So, last night I had evacuation-type dreams. In one of them, post-war Lupin and Snape were evacuated. They had to put up a tent on a football oval, and Lupin insisted that since they had been evacuated with Muggles, they had to put the tent up without magic; Snape was not impressed. They watched a game of football, much to Snape's disdain. The Muggle crowd were singing football songs, and Snape wanted to know how they knew when to sing each song; Lupin didn't know. Then it was time to pack up the tent, and Snape cunningly distracted Lupin, so that he could sneak off and pack the tent up with magic. There was a camp-bed for two. It looked very rickety.

Then I woke up.

This dream was clearly a subliminal message to write the Coffee House of Doom fic, that has been stewing in my head since I wrote Dark Macchiato and Whiplash, two drabbles with Giles and Lupin, requested by sor_bet. I just don't really know why I want to write it - it seems, I don't know, a bit ridiculous. But fun. But silly. OMG - do I have a plot bunny? Is this what plot bunnies feel like?