Little progress; natives restless

Things haven’t been especially hectic lately—I just seem to be poorly prepared to handle what has come my way. With the end of my dance classes I seem to have reverted to a sedentary, passive lifestyle; what things I do tend to be the result of Brian calling me up. (He’s responsible for my having played snooker on Wednesday, and for my having watched Wave Twisters on Thursday.) I’m glad that Brian will call me—thanks, B!—but I’m a bit worried that I’m not calling him. Or anyone, for that matter.

Maybe part of this is related to my junky, junky sleep habits. Actually, I’m almost certain it is—there’d be darn-near perfect correlation between the amount of sleep I get and how social I want to be. There is also a strong correlation between how social I am and how happy I am, so not getting sleep can really screw me over.

Of course, I type the above at midnight. Hmm.

Work has been a PITA lately, as people have gotten tired of the moat of paper I have surrounding my castlecubicle. I now need to rid myself of that paper posthaste, which mostly involves me hunching over my scanner for a bloody eternity.

If “Quasimodo” is too complicated a name to say on a regular basis, I will also respond to “Quasi” or “Quas.”

In the semi-victory department you may now find my attempt to find a copy of “China in Your Hands” by Fusion. It seems that the Holiday Hit Mix 1999 CD (a copy of which is now mine) has the right song by the right group—in a (more) acoustic version. (At least, I remember the background being a bit more full than the copy I have.) That’s not all that big a deal, though, as this version still sounds nice and you can still dance to it—meaning that my itch for that song is mostly scratched. Mostly.


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