Poetry & Prozac

* You know you are a Lit. nerd when you try to buy Holinshed's Chronicles. (Incidentally can anyone think of a place where I can do this? Amazon kind of went "bwah? Here's a book about reading a book about Holinshed's Chronicles, if that helps".)

* I left the apartment to interact with actual humanity once, ONCE all weekend. Now I am sick. Never leaving home again.

* Psst. I am totally cute today in my soft cream sweater and maroon turtleneck thing, jeans, and maroon velvet Mary Janes (aka my Chintatown shoes version 2) pulled together by the fact that I smell like Snow White. Looking cute and smelling good makes life a lot easier. Can you imagine if I'd bothered to do something to my hair besides put it up in a bun? Or put on makeup?

* It hurts to swallow. But only on my right side. THANKS, body.

* I feel like I maybe had something productive to say, but I can't imagine what that might have been.

* I am trying to decide about dinner. In a perfect world Michelle would come home and we would go to the store for crackers and sundry stuff, but I doubt that will happen. Perhaps I will have the can of lobster bisque I have been saving without crackers and use the last of my milk on The. Best. Hot Chocolate. Ever.