Hm, gee, this day log entry is at a steady -1, so maybe I should actually include pretty much everything I did today, no matter how uninteresting it should be to most of the world, instead of a cellphone/day log rant combo.

WORK: Someone with poor hygeine habits sits at my desk when I'm not here. They get talc and dandruff on my chair (I have a new chair), smear their fingerprints on the screen, and apparently dip the phone receiver into a fry vat every day so I can clean it every night when I come in.

I missed one day this week beyond my days off owing to my wisdom tooth extraction. I confess that I enjoyed the three codeine pills that I took over three days.

I learned my way around the Visual UpTime tool. Up until now, I had been using a different, similar tool. But now I'm keepin' it real with Visual UpTime. Or something...

The whole going-back-to-school thing may or may not happen this fall, so it's status quo at work until the last second.

I have been listening to that Halcyon song from Orbital for the last three hours straight.

HOME: The curtains don't match in the bedroom, so I have to go back to Pottery Barn and beat them about the head and shoulders until they appease me with two friggin' curtain panels of a matching hue. They are heavy velvet jobs that would block the light well if the rods, being curved, didn't fuck it up.

FAMILY: I sent my grandmother books for her birthday this year. They were all crime noir paperbacks, including two Ellroys (note: paperback books are normally not a good gift, but she has arthritis and has to have them torn apart anyway. If a person isn't suffering like that, get them hardcovers).

Mom is doing well, and will be going to the Dominican Republic in October to play golf. My father is still dead, and I'm still a wreck. Inadvertently seeing his handwriting makes me cry. He had beautiful handwriting, too. My uncle Dave, whom you might remember from that datagirl write-up I did, is still working at the gas company and must spend this weekend with his wife's entire family (her four siblings, etc.). Some people think it's a good idea to have five children. And hell, it probably is (you can put them all to work!), but I'm an only child. What the hell do I know. I certainly don't want five children. My dad was the eldest of eight, and for me that meant no shortage of Italian food growing up as well as lots of Johnny Carson shows and grim warnings about the dangers of tractors.

MY JAW: A co-worker says that part of it looks bruised. I didn't even notice.

COFFEE INTAKE: It seems like a lot, but I keep warming it up.