I'm tired . . . of all this stuff. I wish Richard and Cryptess were still around so I could give them more stuff. I wish Trisa was still speaking to me so I could give her stuff. I wish Tim's room wasn't already crammed with junk so I could give him stuff.
Let's see. I have yet to sort through three boxes and three garbage bags. I'm tempted to throw it off a pier.
I hope I'll end up with time for writing. I still haven't gotten a chance to watch Gangs of New York . . .
If anyone came by here earlier and noticed that none of my graphics were working, well it was because my graphics are hosted by BowieNet, and BowieNet was effected by that big blackout in New York. On msn, there was a photo of hundreds of regular commuters sleeping on the steps of the post office . . . See, that's the sort of thing that should be legal anyway.