Once in a while I write diary entries in my head, and by the time I've got the computer in front of me, I'm already tired of everything I'd been thinking about, and there's no point anymore. It feels like progress.

So, it's been warm and cold and warm and cold, but it's still felt like winter all the way through. I've been doing this thing where I wake up too early and, after a struggle, fall back asleep, at which point I have bad dreams that keep me asleep for too long. Then I scowl all day, until about five or so, at which point I have breakfast (toast and Lipton tea, sometimes a pear), and then the sun goes down and I cheer up considerably. This is a terrible system, but it will do for now.

My television fever has worn off, for the most part, but there are a still a couple of things. I've been thinking about Battlestar Galactica, about the way they're all floating around on giant spaceships, hiding in space, and how it would be if they were all floating around on giant cruiseships, hiding at sea. I've been wondering what it would be like to live a life where the whole world was a network of ships and I never stopped sailing. At first it might be exactly right, but after a while I bet my heart would break with how badly I'd want to dock.

Otherwise, I went into a ninety-nine cents store for no reason at all and came out with an amazing pair of gloves. They are made of carelessness and Frankenstein stitches, but they are some of the best gloves of my life. Basically, I have better glove luck than anyone I know. Everything is pretty okay.