Today I had to do what felt like a month worth of laundry even though I only counted about two and a half weeks' worth of underwear. Somehow, it didn't all dry even with too many quarters inserted into the uberdryers. (No, I have no desire to find the umlaut on my keyboard. Sorry.) Some kid spent his time in the laundromat skateboarding. Evidently no one realized that the clacking of the wheels on the tile floor made skin crawl. Or was it only my skin that crawled with that noise?

So when my laundry was in the washing machines, I went downtown to the Virgin megastore to see if they had any copies left of the Branagh "Much Ado About Nothing" for $10. The sale ends tomorrow, and there aren't any copies of the DVD left even though the computer said the store had two copies. I sent a salesguy downstairs to look for it, and four other salespeople asked if they could help me while I was waiting for him to return. I felt bad about travelling all the way to the store to leave with nothing, so I got a book instead. I finished it before I finished my laundry.

Strangely, the day after I noted that the collection agencies were preventing me from receiving any more unsolicited credit card applications, I got one. I haven't opened it nor decided whether I want to throw it out.

My feet are numb, and I just noticed a silver streak on my Hard Rock Cafe mousepad. I have no idea if it's paint or whether it's part of the guitar. Hmm, it seems to be paint, and I don't own anything remotely resembling silver paint, but I never notice anything on my mousepad because while I have a mouse, ostensibly to use it, of course, I still use the trackpad on my laptop. Sometimes that hurts. Most of the time that hurts. I think I have carpal tunnel even though the closest I ever get to carpal tunnels is fish tanks at local restaurants. Hee.