Notification of the Notify
I swear, if I obsessively hit the refresh button on my email one more time this morning, I will personally walk to the kitchen, remove my French knife and hack off my mousing hand. I'll do it, don't think I won't.

And hey, I caved to 3WA peer pressure and made a notify list. Join it if you have the burning need to know when I've uploaded another gripping diatribe on my enthralling life, will you? Or alternately, join if you're a sucker for punishment and feel compelled to read bad poetry or a journal entry that is made entirely of someone else's song lyrics in an attempt to make me appear deep. I am, in fact, as shallow as the little pools that gather by the side of the road after a short spring rain.
Trust me.

It's raining now, in fact. So you can see, I didn't have to look far to find that analogy. It's cold, yet I refuse to turn on the furnace. It's off until at least October, you mark my words. The dog wants to lay on my feet, and I'm not stopping her. She's 75 pounds of muscle and black hair, and she works better than my slippers at warming my tootsies. It's nice that she's good for something other than staining my carpets and incurring the wrath of my neighbours with her incessant barkage.

There are actually a few irons in my fire with respect to good and positive things, but I'm hesitant to talk about them for fear of putting a pox on them. I will reveal all to my notify list, but only because I know they will put that stuff in the vault. They have Big Lurve for the Meglet, you see. Keep that in mind if you want to join: Big Lurve is one of the conditions of membership.

Keep in mind, membership has it's rewards :)

Posted at 11:44 a.m.