Ugh. Wah.

For some reason, I've been pretty gloomy all week. I would attribute it to PMS, but that's still 2 weeks away. I'm just having one of those weeks where nothing is going right. I woke up this morning with tunnel vision (heralding an upcoming migraine), and then poured out a bowlful of chunky, soured milk on top of my Special K.

About 15 minutes later, now late for work, I sat quietly until my vision returned, only to be replaced by this bastard of a migraine. So I'm spending the morning mindlessly pressing buttons, trying to look busy in case someone walks into my office. This actually frustrates me more than it should because I was working like a demon yesterday, and thought I'd be able to continue my streak today. No dice, though.

Last night, my dryer started quitting out on me, too - as if doing my laundry wasn't already a marathon in patience. None of my 3 loads of clothing dried completely, but were warmed up so they all felt sort of warm and wet and gooey. They're currently drying on my drying rack in my living room, but I got a sneaking suspicion that Sexy may have her way with it in my absence. She tried last night, but fell through the slots, so maybe she's learned her lesson.

I'm not sure if any of you frequent my links on the right over there, but have any of you gone to WilWheaton.net recently? He's gone all pussified on me. I used to enjoy reading his blog but not all he writes about is how great his life is, how much he loves his wife, and how happy he is to be a dad. I'm sure he's a great guy and all, but please 1) You're a celebrity; no one cares if you're happy - unless it's drug induced and 2) Stop trying to plug your damn book: If I wanted to read about a child star who looked a gift horse in the mouth, I'd read MacAuley Culkin's biography. At least he did heroin.