Who's that knocking at my door?

I can feel inspiration. It's sitting just outside of arm's reach, behind me, in a dark room. I know some thing is in the room with me; I can feel it breathing down my neck, hear it's heart beat. Every time i turn around, though, it moves, and I'm back to nothing.

Today begins an interesting experiment into real life for me. My brother and I are in charge of the house, including pets and garbage detail, for eight days. During this time, I must also start a job for which I will not be paid. Yeah, fun is. Inspiration might be waiting awhile.

Interestingly enough, I am dangerously unhealthy. Excess weight not-withstanding, I also happen to be sporting a 244 cholesterol level. Doctor wants to retest in 3 mos to see how I do on my own with diet and...excercise *sigh* To be fair, my father is medicated and can't seem to get his cholesterol under 200. This must be his genetic legacy to me...well, that and the nose. So now I count grams of fat and have to get to the gym whether I like it or not.

'Course, I'm not going to the gym today, nor did I go yesterday. College football begins in the homestate today, which wouldn't be such a big deal 'cept the bf's family has season tickets. Guess who's going? Yay! Football! Go Vikings!

Oops, wrong league.

And for your strangeness of the day...


You are Phillip Padgett from "Milagro"!
You're kind of romantic in a creepy sort of
way. At least Scully thinks so. She seems to
think the fact that you virtually stalk her is
semi-endearing. You always spy on her
voyeuristically, and even fantasize about
having sex with her! You're writing a book
about her, but you burn the manuscript to save
her life and then die yourself.


What X-Files 'Ship Sinker Are You?
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