bleck

I am not getting sick. I am not getting sick. I am going to destroy germs by sheer force of will. I am not getting sick. I have four days to do all of my holiday baking, shopping, mailing and decorating, not to mention getting a haircut, because this is the first time we've had enough money to do so... So I am not getting sick. (This also serves as an FYI to anyone expecting packages from me: they will probably be mailed tomorrow (esp. if it's CDs) or possibly Wednesday. I totally apologise for the inconvenience. :P)

Hear that, body? Good. GOOD, I say.

My Own Private Idaho is an odd little movie.

Questions for the masses today:
If your toe is broken can you still walk on it? Seaners' bed attacked me yesterday.
What should I get Seaners' babysitter for Giftmas? Think sixtyish grandmotherly type from Arkansas. (The other babysitter with the new loaf-of-baby is a Deadhead-hippy-mom-type. I think I'm sorted for that one.)