ER, you don't give yourself enough credit. I would hardly call you a passive observer in a lot of circumstances; you dance and laugh and perform silly, half-drunken stunts with the best of them. And always, everyone you meet loves you. That's a talent, girl.
I'm a-sittin' in the library, having scored a seat on the stairs by the massive glass wall overlooking the pond. Which is choked with algae, by the way. The day is dark and dreary, and it makes me feel cold, but oh, well-Victoria.
Poor Grover got stuck outside last night and yowled so loud that the neighbours turned on their lights to see what was going on. So I was that abashed cat owner standing in the doorway in nothing but an overlarge T-shirt, ushering Grover inside and assuring the neighbourhood that all was well. Argh.
I haven't heard when I'm supposed to be heading up north yet, and I keep having dreams that I'm pregnant. Wierd. And a little scary.
