On the compulsive hair disorder topic: it appears several people have been Just Waiting for me to have another bout of it. Mom thinks I'm suffering from Acute Novel Writing Displacement, which apparently doesn't only appear when I'm struggling with a book. Just when I'm writing one. How generic of it. Hmph. *I* still don't think I'm suffering from it (although I did spend an hour this morning playing solitaire and avoiding writing, so who knows. OTOH, hey, almost 4K today, so my avoidance wasn't very complete), but apparently people have been waiting for it to strike, so maybe I'm wrong. (Hmph. Again.) At any rate, Mom says I shouldn't cut my hair until I'm done writing the book (not that I'd have time anyway) and after ALL THIS TIME I'm not going to crap out six weeks before X3, and then I'll be writing another book, so I think I'll be about forty-eight before I get to cut my hair again.
I walked down to the store today, and while I was gone, my wonderful husband vacuumed and straightened up the living room. Given that he's not only broken, but has come down with a flu-like bug, I thought that was extra splendid of him. The downstairs looks *much* nicer. Although wow, the carpet in the living room is just plain dirty. Nasty. Maybe once we're unpacked we'll have somebody come clean it. That would probably go a long way toward getting the old smoke smell out, too. Gah.
I coulda sworn I had interesting things to talk about, but since I don't seem to, maybe I'll stop typing now and post this.
miles to Mount Doom: 451.5