Wouldn't it be lovely if bluebells were pinkbells? Actually, I quite like them the way they are. The pink ones aren't brilliant enough. I think I might just pick a bunch and put them in a vase in my room. I'm almost done with killing my palm tree anyway.

I can't read my own newspapers anymore. The rape and incest articles are getting sicker by the day. And it's taking every effort in my not so tiny being not to hurl something heavy at the Defence Minister over the NS stupidities. Wasting lives.

My clock needs batteries! So it can stop tricking me into thinking I have another hour to sleep in when in reality I'm already 15 minutes late in getting up!

Going to look at what was described as an 'unusual apartment' by the property agents tomorrow. It sounds like a dream house, and the more Lionel calls it 'the Haunted House', the more endearing it's becoming to me. Should really lower my expectations or be completely bummed out tomorrow.