Mar. 2nd, 2003

mishaday: (Default)
Nothing says love like a 7am phone call.

Yes, Dru, your boots are in the mail, my brain is no, not quite functional at 7am on a weekend, but I can still warn you off of using the address book that comes with OS X. Sheesh. Maybe I could call Dad: "Do you know what your son did this morning?!"

I got to everything yesterday except the library run, and even did a little grocery shopping. Not much, because, well, between Escapade, rent and the massive winter power bill, I have about $70 to last me until the 10th. Hrm. After yesterday, make that $40. Bleah. Poor now. And I'm trying like hell not to dip into the credit cards, because evil. So, no leering at the hockey boys last night, and no more splurges at the UBookstore.

Lori's fine with me not paying her for the hotel until my next paycheck, and Deb doesn't arrive until I'm flush again: all to the good.

I'm still a little woozy from sleeping too long. I was starting to dream that Dad's airport business turned into a used car dealership, and Dru was trading in his pimpmobile for a little hatchback something or another, and I was looking at a Volkswagen beetle (old school) with a hatch and a shell on top. Ten feet tall, and not even six feet long. Scary lookin' thing.

Ooh - I had a good idea for an icon last night. Time to wake up more and boggart Lori's camera.

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Misha Day

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