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I signed up for Nanowrimo but, to paraphrase my forefather John Paul Jones, I have not yet begun to write. Have instead, for reasons known only to myself, spent the last forty-five minutes trying to locate a "vintage reproduction" porcelain enamelware sign depicting the logo of the Andrea Doria.
Still pissed about the election.
Attended two soccer team end-of-season, pizza-and-cake parties this weekend, resulting in a 147-pound weight gain. Perhaps I swallowed a soccer ball without noticing?
Also signed up with the local Friends of Animals group to foster homeless dogs. But as there were no dogs to be had, and the cat ladies were overwhelmed, we took home a pair of kittens in need of socialization. This is our second evening with them and they seem much less shy already. They are quite wonderful, really, but already five months old and in a month of Sundays no one has offered to adopt them.
Big cold sinus-y thing throbbing behind my cheekbones and eyebrows. Feels like my forehead has sprung a shelf.