Ms. McKennitt's The Visit. (Quite nice, with the possible exception of her Greensleeves, which is disappointing. Loreena, its wonderful that you know how Tom Waits would sing it but what about how you would?)

Three books. Used book places are magnificent things.

A long overdue haircut.

The knowledge that the store I was planning to purchase the little Gorgon's birthday present from has ceased to exist.

This calendar.

Another trial set of contacts. I'm looking into becoming a professional guinea pig.

Another calendar.

A curious/sadistic fascination with turn-of-the-century medical malpractice.

Congestion.

B-pluses on the Env. Sys. and history midterms, A's on the TOK and orch ones.

A slowly mounting fear of finding out the results of my math exam.

A case of Jolyitis which, despite popular belief, is very different from typical hypochondria. A remark from Medusa had me staring at my tongue in the mirror before I realized what I was doing. All I need now is a cane and a bald friend.

And last, but not least, I very recently barricaded myself in a bathroom with a comb, a clip, and two boxes of dye and now, from the neck up, I resemble an angular scoop of vanilla ice cream slowly being smothered beneath a psychopathic spill of stale fudge.

Its not that bad, I s'pose, seeing as I'm "inept". For one thing, its not even entirely dry yet and for another, its quite a lot better than the brownish-greyish-reddish-gold monstrosity that used to hang off my head.

Ouch. Head. Head hurts. Bedtime, I hope. Need sleep. Maybe tonight it'll need me.

Adieu.