Like omg, this is really horrible, and faggoty, and I think I might kill myself because I don’t want to be art of the human race anymore.

It’s really quite cold out today. This is really the main reason why I hate New England weather. I hate it being cold like this. Granted, it’s not as cold as it could be, but as Eddie and I were discussing tonight, it’s really much nicer to have it be this cold with snow on the ground instead of having it be cold, clear, and all the snow is really ice. We’re expecting some more snow this Friday, but for now they’re not sure how much we’ll get, only that the storm should be strengthening as it moves up to us. Hopeful we get a load of the white stuff dumped on us and they cancel classes and Eddie gets to stay home.

Pickle has been driving me absolutely up the wall these past few days. She’s been obsessively digging at the heater since at least Saturday, and if she’s not going for the heater, she’s trying to get into the window or climbing the gate into Eddie’s room. And nothing we do will stop her. We brought out the rice box, toys, moved things in front of the heater where she’s scratching, but nothing will dissuade her from doing it. We’ve already confirmed that there’s nothing in there that she wants; I had Eddie sweep everything out from under it last night because she was finding bits of food under there. It’s gotten to the point where we can’t do anything without having to stop every 2 minutes to pull her away from the vents. Putting her in the cage doesn’t stop her, because she just starts pulling on the cage bars - not a good thing when the cage is jury-rigged back together in the first place.

Case in point: I’ve been working on this post since about 6pm. It is now 6:41pm.

I dyed my hair last night, it’s just a little darker than what it had been.

Today we started typing. It’s perhaps the most awful class I’ve ever had to take. We have to use this retarded typing program and I swear to god that if I need to type the sentence “a lass had half” once more, I will sit there and surf restricted sites until IT comes in and drags me away from my computer. I can’t stand trying to use the homekeys, and my WPM keeps getting lowered because whenever the timed test involves a “.” at the end of the sentence, I put two spaces after it like I was taught all through high school, and the fucking program insists that I only should be putting one.

While I was sick one night, Eddie pulled out Pickle to let her run around before bedtime like we always do. However, that day she’d been out all day and was exhausted, so when he took her out and handed her to me, she simply snuggled against me and went back to sleep for 15 minutes - unheard of for her hyperactive fuzzy self. After a little while she woke up and jumped around the couch, and then went back to sleep in her cage.

(ignore the black thing on my mouth - there’s something on the camera lens)

And this is why, no matter how often she bites my toes, I just can’t get mad at her.