6:26 Early Monday Evening   Cocktail Spilling and I've erupted into a mess of pink. oh the achy pink. there were flies mating on caleb's face the other day. and the kitchen smells like Indian Oven. I now realise that Indian Oven must have gotten something incredibly burnt sometime before we came back from New Zealand... My clothes and hair smell like smoke. Why can't my clothes and hair absorb the nice smells like roses and delicious bread baking and chocolate? It has to absorb a noxious odour like burnt oven. probably caleb should stop eating my shoulder.