Today I listened to Icelandic music and ate Icelandic fish & chips. The music sounded just as good in Pennsylvania as it did in Iceland. The fish didn't fare so well--although perhaps that's because I was eating it in a faux-Chicago restaurant in Pennsylvania instead of a faux-Mexican restaurant in Iceland. Or maybe things just taste better in Iceland. It is possible, I suppose, although I feel like a traitor to my fair home state for even contemplating it.
If I were sensible, I'd be hard at work on my
sga_genficathon story. Because I'm not, I've been toying with a Sumner story I started ages ago and then dropped but still really like. It's kind of ... weird, so I doubt anyone else will, but that's never stopped me before. (No fear, though, 
sholio; I will complete my assignment this time around even if I have to pull an all-nighter to do so.)