Yesterday I threw away some pennies, and then felt guilty.
So anyway, I think someone is trying to tell me something. I don't usually brush out my hair after it's dried when I wear it curly (because it's a great way to break it off), but yesterday it was so effing windy it was just in knots, so I slowly took a comb through it. Holy massive frizz! I actually took a picture it was so hilarious, but decided not to post it because I'm afraid it would still be coming up on google image searches for "crazed lioness" ten years down the road.
Then today I got a phone call from a number not in my contacts. I didn't pick it up and they didn't leave a voicemail, but something made me want to google it. It was totally the appointment line at Andre Chreky. I've never even been there!! Alright, Hair Gods! I know it's been five months since my last confession (last time your minions cut off FOUR inches for a trim, did you expect me to come running back?); I will make an appointment tomorrow!
I had some weird dreams last night. In one I was Elizabeth Corday from ER (naturally) and it was time for me to go back to London. To do this I boarded a small ship and watched the Statue of Liberty as it passed. Yeah. ER takes place in Chicago, so, whatever. I'm all forlorn because, as you know, Corday only went back to England after Baldy McGreene died on the beach (why do I remember all this? I hardly watched this show). Eventually we're out at sea and I go down to my bunk, close the door and suddenly this cat jumps out from under the bed. It looks exactly like Chelsea, my roommate's (in real life) cat, except about half the size (Chelsea, my dear, you are a fat cat). I'm kind of like, "well, that's weird," when suddenly more appear. Four in all. They're wandering around my bunk, against my legs, and meowing like the fucking apocalypse is bearing down on us (just like Chelsea does in real life). And I'm very confused as to where the hell all these things came from. I guess the ER thing is over, because I call my roommate from my phone and say, "Hey, what's up with these cats?" She says, "Oh yeah, Chelsea had kittens. I put them in your luggage. I'm so sorry, I meant to tell you. You don't mind do you." "Hey, I was trying to get away from all this, but I guess there's not a whole lot I can do now, is there?" So I'm stuck with the cats. Of course, this makes a whole lot more sense when you know that on Wednesday late afternoon I'm sitting in our living room and her boyfriend walks in the door by himself - with a housekey. Wherein I immediately go all "Oh HELL no I'm not doing this boyfriend-lives-for-free shit again" and ask whyfor the boyfriend has a housekey without my knowledge and how long he plans on ahem staying. Apparently (some excuse blah blah) he needs to stay for a few days and for some reason she forgot over the course of an entire day to, you know, shoot me an email. Thus, the cat dream, I guess.
There was also another less contentious dream, but it's long gone now. What a gloomy, cold Friday. I'm tempted to get out of here early and go snuggle in bed for the rest of the evening (with a book).