03.07.2003 - 10:55 a.m.

Note to self: The lady on the other end of the phone line cannot see the perfectly good map your hands are miming in front of you.

Today is day six. Well, actually the dryer is better now, but one of the roommates was doing his laundry and brought up declawing my cat again so I didn�t feel like talking to him enough to get a load in for myself. It�s Friday anyway, nobody cares what I look like today.

�It�s really important that we stop her from destroying it any more.� Uh huh. I�m not declawing my cat. The carpet was terribly installed anyway. The corners she pulls at look about the same as the corners she hasn�t gone after. Terrible. And she only does it when I stay away too long, and even that wouldn�t be a problem if you�d just let her sit with you once in a while. I�m sorry that you�re an anal neat freak, but I can assure you based on what Kelly and I did to our last apartment that the supers aren�t. And I love my cat lots more than I care if you like or respect me. I can stonewall you for four more months, and then I�m gone. And, just, I am still growling at you in my head.

Ahem. Please excuse the paragraph above.

My work inbox is starting to look like my boss�. I used to read every single message, even the ones that weren�t quite about me. I used to clean it out every so often. Now, it�s all I can do to keep up with the ones that are specifically aimed at me. Ah, the quiet, quiet death of good intentions.

Speaking of which, I�m writing seven stories this week. In addition to knitting my three and a half square feet of afghan. Because my writing deserves more than a quiet, quiet death.

And that feeling I�ve had all morning, bursting at the seams with energy and awareness. It�s more than worth the temporary, insomniac insanity.

-stonebridge

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