It is an itchy and unpleasant-feeling and brain-dead sort of day. Damned pollens.
It's a little cool to be running the a/c, and it's making me feel chilly, but the alternative is to turn it off and feel snuffier and itchier and headachy and HOT. You know, the not-in-the-good-sense sort of HOT. So it's staying on.
Tentative plans to go to Kohl's and buy underwear and shorts and summer shirts have thus been derailed by a monumental lack of ability to focus. So I guess I'm sitting at the puter for the rest of the day, waxing long-windedly philosophical in comments to other people's entries while having nothing to say of my own that is new or creative. (See, I DO know when I do that.)
I can also photoshop a bunch of pics for Lansdowne Folk Club - I have 2 concerts' worth to work on. So, um, yay. And I have a monumental backlog of gmail to sift through and possibly reply to. Ditto!yay. And then there's 2 hours of teevee from last night to watch, plus tonight's 3 hours of crack. Maybe I could do something constructive during commercial breaks. Uh-huh.
Allergy-fighting discovery of the week: freezing books that are infested with dust (and its attendant mites) does NOT de-allergenize them. So they need to be returned to the library. Spuh.
Music-related discovery of the week (so far): I found last night that I desperately need to obtain Butch Ross' CD
The Moonshiner's Atlas, primarily because I am obsessed with "I Like Singing Folk Songs".
Also? It is NOT FAIR that I can't find "The Day John Gorka Died" anywhere, to download OR buy. Fie, I say. I need Butch bootlegs! And I need them now!
Finally, because I am a shameless meme thief, I am nicking this from
marginalia (who never wrote back! *pokes her*) and
carpetofstars:
You all should write me letters in my comments! I'll even provide the handy-dandy format:
Dear
iniswitryn,
You are really _____. You should _____. We need to go _____. After that we can _____. Remember that time we _____? That was real _____. Maybe tomorrow we can _____. You are my _____. I _____ you!
Signed your _____,
_____
p.s. _____.
And then I'll write back, and much jollity and mirth and festiveness will ensue. Because I decree it.