Feeling: grr.
Listening to: Wallflowers- Invisible City
Reading/Watching: Rasselas

Pardon me while I have a progressively bad day.

Stepped out for class and was halfway down the stairs when I realized, "Hey, you're still wearing your slippers." And I was suddenly so irritated that I couldn't just wear them all day, because on a sunny dry day I would, but it was still puddles outside and I didn't want to risk my zebra-striped footsie-pillows. It's just what would cap the day off, turning the soft into squish.

I really hate those days where you feel bad, don't know why, and just want a hug but can't seem to whore yourself out enough to get one.

When I attempted to steal a hug from Drew he wouldn't even hug me back, and said something rude, and I hate that the basis of our friendship thus far makes it ridiculous that I'd be offended by that, even though I was. We've always been comically mean to each other. But I just wanted a hug, dammit. The only time he's been voluntarily nice was the day my grandfather had a stroke and I was crying.

Then my stomach started hurting and I was becoming a hypochondriac, wishing for a sick day so I could sleep in without being awakened in the morning by the ROTC drones marching and barking outside my window at 6 a.m.

They sound eerily enthusiastic about pre-dawn activities.

The headache capped it off, and that's when wisdom struck. I read the list of symptoms on my Midol bottle, and the mystery was solved.

I swear, it's like God saves up 28 days of wickedness, giggling vindictively to himself about how fun it will be to make me manic-depressive.

On the upside, post-medication, I went to my night class and while watching slides of sculpture and painting (it really gives me an ego boost, since I recognize at least half of them before she identifies them), I felt better, and worked out a plan with a friend from the class to go to the Museum of Art together and thus cut our research for the final paper in half.

She's fun- she's the only one besides me who noticed that Michelangelo's David is a real let-down in the anatomy department. Huge hands, huge feet. Weensy little pee-pee.

Plus I thought of something absurd: Would the Winged Victory ever have been captured if she'd kept her head about her?

::snigger:: Get it? Okay, I know I'm a dork, you don't have to rub it in.

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