I have the sneaking suspicion that whatever has set up camp in my lungs and sinuses is the flu. Yes, the flu , decimator of millions. And so all weekend I've been telling myself, in so many words: "Get thee to a pharmacy." But between Friday's screwdrivers and fuzzy navels and Saturday's recovery from the afformentioned beverages, I haven't taken my own advice. And now, on the eve of another long week, I'm surrounded by used tissues and cough drop wrappers and pouting over the fact that I missed The Simpsons. Plus, I just sneezed all over my 'puter. Life's not fair.

Well, that was enough bitching, wasn't it? Time for happiness: Happy Birthday, E2 ! I know we haven't known each other very long, and I didn't get you anything, but enjoy your day, anyways.

As an aside, isn't it (slightly) interesting to see how people categorize their daylogs? For some people a day is a person, for others it's an idea or a thing... What the hell; for me, November 13, 2000 is going to be a place. Don't ask me to explain it, it just is.

I see it's a place for Spacklequeen, too...I guess there really are no original ideas.