12 April 2002 - 2:13 p.m.

Aitch said that yesterday. What's with me and Aitch lately? I can't stop quoting him. Is he like, my role model? He can't be having that much influence, though, because he's prolific as a damn Mormon, and I just want to watch TV today.

After 3 hours of typing at work, the last thing I want to do is work on my thesis, even if I'm working on an essay about George Harrison. My job just sucks the soul out of me some days. And I really don't get paid enough to have the soul sucked out of me. All that typing and filing is bad enough.

Why I'm able to type merrily away at Diaryland is quite an interesting mystery, though.

It's a good thing the site was down, though, or you all would have been subjected to a tearful entry about how Hatbox, my baby kitty, sneaked outside and was missing for a whole hour. Gus came over and he and I looked around the neighborhood for her, and of course found her sitting at my door, meowing and hissing at us for having left. Just like a cat.

So it's now permanent collar-wearing time for Ms. Hatbox. She's never taken kindly to anything around her neck, and I didn't expect this to change. However, she appears to have developed a taste for her bell and all the jingly-jangly tags hanging from her neck. And when I say taste, I mean that literally. She licks them. All the time. With great entusiasm.

Yeah, I don't know, either.

What I'm wearing:

What I'm reading:

What I'm doing after this: