dude,

That is so weird about your exacto knife injury, as I too cut my pointer finger yesterday. I was slicing watermelon. I can’t be trusted with such instruments. But we’re totally blood sisters now, as if we weren’t before.

Am the exact opposite of contentment at the moment. Mainly gross and unsettled. The word “spaz” comes to mind. Can’t simmer down to save life, so am channeling nervous energy into spontaneous, semi-manic projects such as lawn-mowing, yard sprucing and wallpaper removal. Tile scrubbing. Which is good because at least those are productive activities and sort of get me somewhere. But I could, I don’t know, do my job. That would be helpful. If I could focus.

Pending Projects: Rip out garden. Fill flowerbeds with pretty fresh flowers. Finish master bedroom wallpaper removal and begin painting. Touch up hallway and kitchen trim. Scrape off rust from porch railing and repaint black (which will be awesome). And then there are a lot of maybes. We will see.

Side note: The Crazy this month, which has (mostly) passed, featured a very specific loathing toward pickup trucks with ginormous fenders. Hate! The nerve of them. Somewhat amusing, however.

I’ve been washing my face with straight honey, which is both interesting and so far effective.

Was highly dissatisfied with the conclusion of Worst Comic Standing. Because that’s how it ended up. But, beyond satisfied with conclusions of both Friday Night Lights (brills, brills, brills, cannot emphasize enough) and Work of Art.

So I’m supposed to do a little work tonight and then watch ProRun. It’s my greatest wish. But there’s this tiny obstacle called football in the way at the moment. Blech. But I suppose it’s just as well.

xxxxoooo

pen