In Tales From Little Red's Cracked Out Fever Dreams (mmmm... night fevers. And not of the ", Saturday" variety, either): I dreamed about liminalliz's "born in a bin" icon. Now, I have no idea who the kid in the icon is, or what the heck she's talking about, so I didn't dream about them so much as the icon itself. I think my fever dreams have declined in quality lately.
Also: I saw this icon in a post by speshulduck and freaked out because it matches the text in my layout, squeee, and went insane about how maybe she listened to Over the Rhine *too* and wasn't it SUCH A COINCIDENCE (because Hoshi! Linguist! Eee!), until rosewildeirish informed me that it is, in fact, a Robert Frost poem. I'm going to go feel uncultured over here now. Perhaps this is why I am dreaming about being born in a bin inside a 100x100 pixel box.
Road trip! Wheeee! :)
-- Little Red, who has metaphorical miles to go until she gets out the damned door...