Every Little Word

Finally got out of  the apartment last night, but only to do laundry.  I'm sure that this place is going to need at least a can of aerosol disinfectant to kill off all the germs I've expelled in the last five days or so.  I'm going to wipe down my desk area at work when I get there today, too.

This cold has been a bad bad thing.  Not only did it result in scrubbing this week's Trinity game, but it kept me from getting to a birthday party for my grandmother.

Heroes wraps up its first season tonight.  I'm jonesing for it something fierce, but I'm also thinking really hard about catching a movie after work instead.  Last thing I saw in theaters was Ghost Rider, and that was better than three months ago.  Leading candidates are a Paul Verhoeven World War II espionage flick done with his normal restraint and good taste and Hot Fuzz.

No spider dreams for a while.  Could be that my brain is too busy cooking itself (read somewhere that the brain only fires about 1% of available neuron connections at a time to avoid overheating) to come up with invading arachnids.  Maybe just as weird, though, was an anime dream I had Thursday or Friday night.  There's just something wrong with dreaming in cartoon.