Listening to: Hot Chip*, Hawksley Workman, Dave Brubeck.
Activity: Transferring all my dusty CDs to my fancy new CD holder. It's sneezy, but gratifying. I had no idea that Juliana Hatfield played such a crucial role in my formative years. But there she is, again and again and again.
Looking forward to: Not being itchy, and dinner with the BH. I am totally in the mood for some beets. And some love. And some non-itchiness. (GAAAAH, MAKE IT STOP!!!! OH. MY. GOD. ALLERGIES.)
Realizing: That I will probably have to get my tooth pulled this week. Remember my Terrible Gum Infection? It's back. Fucker.
Wishing: That I could get the gory scenes from Pan's Labyrinth and The Curse of the Golden Flower out of my head. How did I manage to see both those movies in one week? I spent most of each film burying my head in BH's shoulder, muttering something about needing to vomit.
Happy that: My Christmas cactus is flowering again!!! It DOES love me!
Off to get those beets in order. And to wash myself off in alcohol, and then to set myself on fire, or whatever else cures itching. What was that? SHOWERING? Oh. Yeah, I guess that would make more sense.
*"I'm sick of motherfuckers trying to tell me that they're down with Prince" is the best line in a song. Ever.