Today was a good day, although my science fiction writing class thinks I'm dead.

I intend to return as soon as I finish my current story and concoct a new one about the astonishing events that led to my truancy.

I feel sleepy. That is welcome at this hour. This is Day Three of trying to distance myself from my ancient sloth ancestors, majestic though they are.

A nap is a small crime. In the wrong hands, it can be deadly.

NPR featured Damien Rice on their song of the day. After a few listens, I opened up an iTunes account and purchased the entire album. I think I did the right thing.

In HTML news, I think my template is as done as it's going to get. I've plugged in my links, comments, and sitemeter and I think that's it. The edge of the blog seems to have noticed something very interesting to its immediate right and is attempting to meander off in that direction. Let it, I say. We're not about strict enforcement of rules here.

It's a bit past my witching hour bedtime, and I must soon retire. I should mention the reason for my stricter nocturnal habits. Much like the week in which I vowed not to eat any foods that my pet rats would not (sorry, McDonald's fries,) this study suggests that erratic sleep patterns aren't super-happy-fun for the body. Thus, I am attempting to stabilize one spinning orb in my hanging mobile of self-destructive habits which incidently looks like this:



The green leopard represents malt liquor.

Buona notte.