Felt persistently and irrevocably lame today. Reveled in it. Wallowed. It was good. Still feel kind of lame, though considerably better now. Last night my mom dislodged the house-alarm-trigger-thingy on the window in my and my sister's room, and said window is above my desk, ergo my stepfather's prospective embarking upon a mission to fix it required that I clean up my desk. I'm hoping/assuming it only needs half of my desk, because that's all I did, but cleaning helped a lot. I like cleaning things. It's therapeutic. Especially when there is obnoxiously loud music involved. I got my hands coated in the potent desk-dwelling cocktail that is dust and eraser crumbs, and it felt amazing. Didn't hurt that I also drudged up a standardized test score my mom wanted, which resulted in my rifling through a bunch of old test scores and feeling as though I might actually have some redeeming value. Always good.
I try to clean up other people's rooms, too. It's kind of a problem. Ask eltea; she has fallen victim to this trend on many an occasion.
Need to get a lot of sleep tonight in preparation for an epic weekend. Probably won't.
Also perfected the Gerard mood theme earlier, which similarly made me feel better. There are now no doubles: every single mood is a completely different picture. The 'redeeming value' aspect of that particular task is a bit more doubtful.
The moral of the day comes from our friend Howl.
You tell 'em, Howl.
Oh, yeah, also started the third part of the "Her and Me" trilogy today. And by "started," I mean "created a document, stuck in two pre-written pieces, and edited a little." Very exciting. Probably will result in nothing but a lot of whining about writer's block, though eltea will likely receive the brunt of that, never fear.
GAWD I'M LAME.