I'm rearranging the furniture again...

damn it. My life has reached the futility tipping point, and I am left with no activity guaranteed to be more productive or satisfying than rearranging the furniture. It is difficult to pinpoint just exactly what it weighing so heavily on me, but I think my Onion horoscope sums it up pretty nicely:

Libra: (Sept. 23—Oct. 23)
You will descend into the bowels of the earth to battle the roaring monsters that inhabit its mysterious tunnels, and you will be slain by one 16 cars long.

Yep. That's just how I feel. And of course, all the recent fic I've read has just backed that feeling right up. Achingly well-written so, of course, utterly, depressingly believable. Here is my 3x Futility (I can't even come up with 5 - even reccing is futile.)

Rabbit on the Run by srichard - When your back is to the wall, it doesn't matter what you do.

For what reason by laura_the_auror - Some relationships have a life of their own.

Hits the Ground by atrata - Snape comes back from a Death Eater meeting, and his Issues manifest in a decidedly ugly way. Approx. 3200 words. non-con, dark.