I should not be allowed to wear black. Or white. Or yellow. (Because, respectively, it shows lint, it gets stained, and it makes me look sallow). Hm. Presently my black stretchy pants and I are covered in lint balls from my just-stripped bed. It's laundry night. I decided this after a big, roach-looking bug appeared practically on my pillow yesterday evening. I'm sure he didn't come from the bed itself, but if my bedclothes are even remotely beginning to attract that kind of crowd, it is way past time for a little detergent. Plus, after a week at the cottage, I have a pile of things that smell like suntan lotion, burnt skin (despite the lotion!), fire, and must. So off I'll go.

I wanted to write because I never write anymore - emails or letters or blogs or IMs - I just seem to have no desire whatsoever to communicate with people recently, and I don't know why this sudden aversion cropped up. I'm not feeling especially misanthropic. Just the opposite, actually. I think it's just that typing reminds me of work, which I'm rejecting in any and all forms for at least the next month. That, and the impetus for writing most of my posts usually came from, aside from the desire to share things with you nice people, the perpetual urge to procrastinate. But who wants to put off reading and playing and going to the farmer's market? Anyway, rest assured that there are things going on in my life - like Toronto happened, and then the cottage, and weddings and concerts and weekends full of things from now until the middle of August are all happening, and maybe someday, if I can think of an interesting way of putting things, I'll write about them.

Today's most pertinent news: I just got a chia pet and named her Penelope. I wanted to call it Agamemnon, but, judging by the udders, it's clearly not a he. Also, thanks to a stick of Big Red I chewed yesterday, my taste buds are burnt beyond practical use. My nectarine tasted like fuzzy wood this morning, and the granola wasn't much better. What kind of chemicals are they suddenly using in gum that my mouth can't handle?! (Also, when my "news" consists of headlines like these, aren't you a little glad I'm keeping most of it to myself?)