I am a horrible webmistress

My apologies, dear internet, for my lack of interestingness.
I’ve been doing a lot of something, and that is not updating.
I am back on day shift, which is very, very nice, besides the fact that I have to go to bed at about 11:00 like I’m some kind of grandmother.
You know, when naval officers leave a submarine after living on it for months, they’re asked to not drive for several days, because their eyes are so trained to be focused on things near to them, their perspective is all messed up.
That’s what I’m like at work.
I should not be allowed to drive after staring at a computer for 7 1/2 hours straight.
I just stare ahead of me, fixed, fascinated, on objects in the distance and the pretty colors of the outdoors.
Then, on the drive home, I yearn for so much human interaction, I try to start conversations with drivers in cars next to me, despite the fact that we A) have our windows up, and B) are going 65 miles an hour.
Fall is upon us, and although I hate the chilly weather like nothing else, the trade I get for wearing itchy sweaters is the awesomeness of the trees, the smell of the air, and the all-around ambiance of Halloween.
I’m probably going to be Ace Ventura again this year.
I mean, I was going to be Harpo, but I’d rather have nobody know what I’m supposed to be in reference to the past decade rather than have nobody know what I’m trying to be in reference to sixty years ago.
So, my days are packed with sniffing air, going to apple cider festivals (Soergels, for you in-town kids), going to Haunted Amusment Parks (Kennywood), and visiting my rivet-but-not-goth friends in Baltimore (SDO).
When Felicia and I were having margaritas last night, I took advantage of Felicia’s state of mind, and in between her insistence that wearing a fat kid on your head would be a great hat, I convinced her that I was going to get us a kitten.
It will likely never come to pass, but I tried.
Let’s just hope wearing fashionable fat kids on your head never comes to pass.
Back to work, amigos.
PS — Someone offered me a gmail account and I passed over it with wonton apathy, dimissing it as the latest ephemeral interfad.
Holy shit, do I need to write more. See? When I don’t write for a long time, ridiculously colorful language and metaphors come deluging forth from behind the damn of silence.
Anyway, point is, could someone give me a gmail referral?
I want to be like the cool kids, too!!!
Update: I got one.
Thanks to everyone who offered!!


What the hell just happened?