This week has shot right past me, and none of it quicker than last night. Mysterious! I've not quite been myself, but this other person's pretty interesting. She's a chatterbox, and her hands are everywhere.

Today, possibly as a result of last night, I was spacey and daydreamy and constantly reaching for the wrong thing. This evening I went out in the snow and just let myself be snowed on without a hat or a hood or an umbrella, and it feels nice to not be careful. Maybe tomorrow I'll take a camera to Kew Gardens. There's time now.

I was supposed to move, slightly, on Sunday/Monday, but people are unreliable. I'm going to have to wait an extra month to start my new quiet life wherein I'm the only person I know, and I spend my evenings reorganizing cabinets, listening to records, and possibly baking pies. Instead I'll spend my March being testy and sullen, and thinking of April. April, I think, would be a nice time.

When someone says, "I love you. You know that, right?" and you actually don't know, at all, even though you really should, one way or the other, well, it's a terrible feeling. So, you can just nod, hoping that it doesn't count as a lie because a nod can mean so many things. It can just be that your head felt like moving.

Then I talked to him, and it wasn't dreadful.

I'm really in a better mood than any of this sounds like.