My old friend Laud.

I've spent the day with Archbishop Laud. He is NOT a barrel of laughs. It was a good concentrated sitting-in-my-study-day-of-real-work, though. And it's a good day for it outside, cool and grey and pearly looking, a little cool but that kind of soft damp cool like you're walking through a cloud. It encouraged me to stay in instead of go out and prune the azaleas or something. Woo!

And I'm not done yet!! I bet I have another good 6 or so hours in me before my brain fries. Especially once I get that Hoegaarden in me - I'll be refreshed and ready to do battle again. Why is Hoegaarden so unnaturally delicious? it smells like I always THOUGHT that mead would smell - like flowers and honey. (Mead DOESN'T smell OR taste like that - or like anything good. it's more like....rancid rotten fermenting honey mixed with cheese and vinegar. YUCK. Don't try it.)

My husband finished a paper lickety-split and decided to have a shot of Maker's Mark before he headed out to class. We're quite the party-learning household around here.

I went to try to get my fingerprints taken (for the NEW JOB - they do a background check. I mean, seriously, how exciting is that? It makes me feel kind of felonious!) But the police department don't take fingerprints (unless, presumably, you've done something untoward) except on Mondays and Wednesdays between the hours of 2:00 and 4:00. That seems weird. I mean, you wouldn't think (and I'm probably wrong here) but you wouldn't THINK that taking fingerprints was such a skilled endeavor that only one person in the whole department could do it - but apparently you would be wrong. And also, you have to drive all the way to Raleigh to get a copy of your driving record. The powers-that-be in this state want to make it good and difficult for you to do anything moving-vehicle related. Perhaps that's their way of encouraging people to ride the bus or the (non-existent) light rail service. (By the way, I've decided that if I get a job in a big city, we are definitely making it a PRIORITY to live in a place where all our transit needs are met by the metropolis and not by our selves. I want to ride the bus with crazy people like Mimi Smartypants, NOT drive in to town from some miserable suburb and spend 2 soul-sucking hours on the interstate every day.)

Last night I dreamed that we adopted little Chinese babies, and so did several of our friends. I also dreamed that I went to the best yard sale EVER, in which my friend Heatherleigh was moving to a smaller house and needed to get rid of a whole bunch of her really cool stuff. The best thing about this really cool stuff was that it was free. I scored two rugs and a whole bunch of little knick-knacky stuff, and I was going back with a dolly to get this huge fountain made of cobalt blue tile with oranges sculptured all over it. My old roommate Lori and I had a retarded kitten, too. What a great dream. (I dream about great yard sales and heavenly thrift stores ALL THE TIME - enough so that I would remark on it - where everything is amazing and practically free, and you get so much stuff that your cart is overflowing. What does that mean - that I'm a consumerist asshole? That I have penis envy? That I really dig a good bargain?)