I hate it when people don't listen to you on the phone. Some dude just called my house about my brother's curling and asked if I was Lucinda. Which I'm not, and when I told him that he just started nattering on anyway. Not only is that incredibly rude, but I don't give a rat's ass about curling. My whole life has been invaded by curling. It's the only thing anyone in this house ever talks about. My mom prides herself on the fact that we're not a hockey family. Except that our lives revolve around curling. Playing it, planning it, dissecting it, watching it. And if you listen to women's curling from another room, which always happens to me, it sounds like a porno. So you know...fantastic.

I have lost my fic notebook. I cannot find it anywhere in my tip of a bedroom. It has to be in there somewhere, I just can't bring myself to stop watching NCIS long enough to look for it. I could write in another notebook, it's not like I haven't printed hard copies of previous chapters, but I like the fluidity of having all my rough drafts in the same notebook. I lost the notebook that I was writing Something Beautiful in, and I haven't done anything on that story since then. I should just clean my room and solve the problem, but Tony is a bad influence.