Disjointed notes on a life.

[kiya]

Mr. Spammer, if you really want to induce me to take your offers seriously, you would be better served not sending me emails with the "from" line set to "Some Bozo."

I've painted one wall and gone around the little corner thing to the wall in front of the bathroom. This is more work in the last week than I did in the previous year; at this rate I'll be needing the ladder in the stairwell sooner than not. Unless I do the wall on the other side, which is also plausible; I haven't gone all the way around the chimney.

"Truly, Madly, Deeply" would be less annoying if Savage Garden knew the difference between "lay" and "lie". However, even if the singer were not proclaiming his desire to produce eggs in this fashion for all eternity, the song would still be annoying.

I fixed the glitch in Menage's power cable, with pliers. Which beats hell out of how to fix glitches in Toy's cable -- which was with replacement.

Dear Mr. Clueless, your choice to judge the legitimacy of a religion by which one includes more minutiae from God's Scrapbook somewhat misses the point that some people's religions, even the ones that reference some version of God's Scrapbook, don't actually have the tenet that quantity beats quality. You want to buy into that one tenet of some people's fundamentalism, that's fine by me, but I think holding such a religious position does somewhat detract from the intellectual superiority of your atheism.

If I had to soak a lock of hair in paint, couldn't I have done it before my shower?

People who insist that kids have no awareness of sexuality at the age of eleven baffle me tremendously. Not just on the "You think that between television, the movies, and the internet these kids don't know that there are gay people?" level. But, I mean, I knew I was attracted to males at six, and that I was a sub by ten. There were fifth and sixth graders (age 10-11) really engaged in the whole dating game thing at my second elementary school, complete with summer romance flick melodrama. I'm pretty sure the whole hoo-ha about information flow is part of what makes it such a weird, charged subject.

I wish I knew why some of my orange bush was withering. If it's something like the disease that killed the lime, I need to trim off the bits so it doesn't spread, so I've been doing that on and off through today.

Driving down to Maryland tomorrow. Need to pack and stuff. Going to be only in contact with the 'net erratically.

Feeling weird and detached from a lot of stuff. Should take my vitamins and see if that helps. Unmotivated, but have now taken my vitamins.

Maybe I'll see if I can get the first section of the game written mostly by tomorrow. That might help.

Or I could work on that chart of aspects that I wanted to do.

Or, in a different meaning of aspects, I could screw around with astrology some more. Something patterning appeals.

teinedreugan says it's going to snow all day tomorrow, all along the coast. That should make this trip entertaining. :/

Hm, Arthur wants to sit on my feet. That's all right, my feet are cold.

I'd kinda like to poke a bit at my D&D character or something, but we're not running this weekend and may not be running weekend after. Hey jikharra, you looking for any more intermittent Fairweather players? If so, got any character types you're looking for in particular, or should I just roll up a rogue so I can fit in? ;) (Whoa. I just got a concept for a rogue/sorceror. . .)

Blue. Achey. And this room has distressing empty bareness near its ceiling. I have an urge to paint it now, even though I'm not done with the upstairs, because the paint that goes in here is blue. . .

I wonder if teinedreugan would be willing to discuss what we want to do with repainting the bathroom. Blue in there too, if I can find the stencil. Ah, there it is, under the table.

Generic complaint: If I'm going to have the butter-over-too-much-bread feeling, I should at least have a magic ring.

Okay, I'll stop writing on this song. Bleah stress.


Addendum: Arthur just decided that he Really Wanted to be up a ladder. So he charges up the ladder, gets the over/under wrong, and thunks his empty little head on the underside of one of the rungs. And then sort of stood there trying to figure out why his upward progress had halted. And this, dear reader, is why he is called "the stupid cat".