I'm starting to feel like the maggot incident has scarred me for life. I had a dream the other night that I had to kill thousands and thousands of maggots -- and every time I killed one thousands more would reappear, and worms, and slugs (neither of which I have any issues with in real life, but as a component of an oncoming maggot horde I found them pretty troubling) -- and it was just horrible; it actually got to me more than the dream I had last week about being chased by Weeping Angels commanded by Hitler.
I watched the first season of Veronica Mars and vastly enjoyed it, but I have been told not to watch any more. I have also been watching Covert Affairs, which is something I've so far been remiss to mention; I'm not desperately in love with the show but I enjoy it and I have to say that Annie, Auggie, and Annie/Auggie are certainly doing it for me. Part of the reason I haven't felt like posting about the show is because I'm not invested enough in it as a whole to care what happens as long it delivers on the aforementioned; my one real hope is that both Annie's ex-boyfriend and Peter Gallagher's character explode in a ball of fire. (I sometimes feel like I have the kind of insta-hate for male characters that most people seem to have for female characters.)
Also, Benedict Cumberbatch, I don't even know what to say to this:
For all these thrills, a part of him is also anticipating disaster. This is not innate pessimism, but the legacy of a violent carjacking he suffered in South Africa in 2004 while filming To the Ends of the Earth. He was beaten, bundled into the car boot and thought he would die. “I knew my mother was going to get a call either from me or someone else, and the difference would change her life.” Just before the tyre blew out, forcing them to stop, he had been listening to Radiohead, blissfully relaxed. “It was one of the best times in my life. Then bang. Every time I’m feeling really good, a bit of me is waiting for that bang.”...That sounds really traumatic.