Then, around 1p, I fell into a daydream that P died enroute to California. After that, I felt so sick I had to go home.
(I think the former was a symptom of the latter, rather than the other way around. In any case, he's safe and sound on the left coast now.)
I came home and slept with Maxman.
I dreamt about the secret room with the fireplaces that I'd forgotten about, and the huge mansion I own in the university that exists beneath my house.
Stupid ldy forgot to take the patch off again :P
Then I ripped it off and couldn't sleep anymore. I'm dropping down to the 10mg formulation as of tomorrow.
Oh, and I spent three hours getting my hair cut.
As you can no doubt tell, my brain cells have yet to recover from... what was I saying again?
I've heard rumours that I was smrt and even a writer person before this whole non-smoking/romance/play stuff.
I don't believe a word of it.
And I have yet to master the billijean one-handed self-portrait.
Good night :)