Just completely failed to get the shot in the arm that would make anything more appealing that curling up with book, TV, or DVD.

Did I mention there was rain? Seems a waste of it to actually leave the house, when I have plenty of excellent blankets right here.

The shower so didn't help.

Post-shower sleepy combined with rainy-day cozy definitely calls for staying in.

OK, so I did something odd. I went search for my soc.sec. cards (didn't find them, shit!) but turned up a bunch of letters-I-didn't-send from a decade ago. I'm kind of reeling. Shit that happened, that I've thought I'd moved on from, but turns out still has resonance today, in my attitudes and perceptions. These were things I'd largely forgotten the minutae of, and yet...

Argh. Packratness sometimes suck. God, I have the memory of an elephant when I want to but this stuff, I forgot for good reason.

That's it. It's final.

I'll just text him happy birthday and give in.

Yeouch. Just watched that Jim Jones documentary that someone around here was pimping. That was so much more fucked up than I knew, and how is that even possible?

The fact that I just scheduled my TiVo online to record that (the TiVo in the next room, on whom I'm going to resume watching Psych just as soon as I take another Imitrex) is not lazy or loserish. It's a sensible use of resources, since I didn't know the name of the show.

Today, I spent 5 and a half hours at the hair salon. It was very annoying, but now I have pretty pretty hair.

I am loving the rain. Also loved dinner tonight. DH made tortilla soup and ye gads was it good. I think we ate just about every bite of it. And then since we were babysitting Franny's godsister today I made cupcakes with the girls, so there was cupcakes around too. Yerm.

Which Science Fiction Writer are You?

I am William Gibson.

Why is it that I suspect answering the "are you an asshole" question with the Louisville Slugger option will net one an answer of Harlan Ellison?

I am HG Wells. And the glass is so totally twice the necessary size.

My god, I'm sore and achey all over. I hope this doesn't presage illness--I haven't really exercised that much this week. Zero kettlebell, for starters. But things hurt, and I am twelve...wait, no, I must be younger, for I want my binkie. And I have no idea what one is.

I was watching A Home at the End of the World. I had to stop, because Farrell's hair was harshing my mellow. So it's DVDs or The OC in bed.

Did I mention whiny? I should have, because I am too.