Yes, I suppose that's a good word for me. I keep waking up at eleven, and the strangest thing is that I sleep like a log until I wake up at that time. Maybe I'm turning into a cat. I'm supposed to be cleaning my room, and then I have to go make that pic, and then I have to call Sarah about the movies and then I have to go shopping and then I have to go ride and then I have to go write a chapter. Or two. Okay, three. I've decided I like Hemingway. I've also decided I do not like Sandra Cisneros. Her books are weird. Today is gonna be one hell of a boring day, I can feel it.