Cutcomb honey in my tea? Yes, please.

It's hard to believe how emotional a ruined piece of graffiti can make you. I've really been enjoying following Banksy's tour of New York, but the idea of people being so petty as to alter, destroy, or cover up his work is stunning and sad. Perhaps they're like totem poles, in a way, and are not intended to be a permanent fixture. However, it's not as bad as one company back in the UK who removed two pieces and sold them at auction for upwards of $300,000, claiming that the citizens of the town "didn't properly appreciate the artwork."

I'm supposed to be writing a midterm today, but right now I'm quite obviously procrastinating. Read a Chinese manuscript the other day written around 200AD that claims if you're a good and honest person for a period of three years, fortune will return to you. It made me nervous, for some reason.

The boyfriend is listening to loud, pounding music in the living room, but it's acceptable as he's also cleaning the toilet. Our dog ran through a gate yesterday when we were out and cut up his face. He also knocked over some chairs, dug holes in the lawn, and tore up his sheepskin rug. He's like a destructive, not terribly bright three year old throwing a tantrum, albeit one with a propensity for licking your face and 500x as much hair.

Emma, we will be at the start of the 8km tomorrow, although neither of us will be running in it. If you win, I'll buy you some champagne.