September 27, 2019—Lunch
Not much happening, in the way of demonic activity or escaped convicts. The troops are still here, and Sunnydale is still under military rule, technically speaking.
I haven't seen Mr. Finn since.
Anyway, major developments on the social front. Jamie has all but assured me that JB reciprocates my feelings for him.
Have I mentioned I love his hair? Right now it's a dark shade of green, no longer blue. The only downside is that it occasionally gets gelled to stay straight up, and then I get a strange urge to smash it down with a shovel.
Right. Which reminds me, Uncle Angel is supposed to come over this weekend. Or actually, Aunt Dawn's getting a little "restless" and needs to see her honey. So now there'll be even more people staying at our house.
It's like a melee of people who don't really get along, all stuck in one small place. Uncle Giles has basically taken over the kitchen and stuffed the cupboards full of his funny-smelling tea bags. He doesn't like to venture out, because then he ends up endlessly cleaning his glasses, the way he always does when he's around Aunt Anya. Aunt Anya wanders around saying disgusting things and keeps trying to break into the basement. And I'm pretty sure she destroyed two of my stuffed bunnies. Aunt Dawn just tries to ignore Aunt Anya and spends all her time on the phone, racking up the long-distance bill to LA. Dad's locked himself up in the basement and only comes out to patrol, when Aunt Anya isn't around. And I've pretty much given up eating anything long and thin—or worse, thick—in front of her. No pickles or breadsticks. Or even french fries, at times. Note to self: don't be seen with a stake. And a sharp piece of wood is not a sex toy, despite what you might use it for, Aunt Anya.
Now I can just imagine Uncle Angel here. He'll bring all his friends, which are sort of my "extended family," really. I think Aunt Fred and Uncle Gunn, being the smart ones, will probably stay at Aunt Willow's house. She's good friends with Aunt Fred, after all. But that means I'll have to share my bathroom with Aunt Cordy. Now, I completely worship and adore Aunt Cordy in all categories of makeup and fashion, but seriously, she takes about three hours to get ready every day. And with Uncle Angel around, there's just no end to the fun. Let's not even go there…as long as I don't wake up one day to find two piles of dust, everything's just peachy keen. 'Cause you know, then I'd have to vacuum.
I really hope Connor doesn't stay with Aunt Dawn. Don't think I'd get any sleep. Maybe I should just join Dad in the basement…