Your password, please.
8:41 a.m.
The gastric distress is improving. On my way to B1ack Cat last night I stopped at the pharmacy and had a most interesting discussion with the pharmacist, who asked me all sorts of personal and invasive questions regarding my peristalsis before selling me the generic equivalent of a national brand of medication advertised on television for the relief of loose stools. It seems to be working, although not as quickly as the TV ads would have one believe.
There is only one writing group session left, which makes me sad because I know that without the gathering of friends once a week I will not sit down and write creatively on my own. Alas. However, toward that end, I have started a new weblog at a different location which I plan to devote to creative writing, although my idea of creativity lends itself more to �truth� than fiction. Anyway, you�re all welcome to check it out, although I do not promise great things. I am putting in some pretty nifty links though as I find them, specifically to artists� sites.
I got a-hold of the plumber and told him my hot-water woes. He said he would be over later this afternoon to see what magic he could work before I go out and buy a new 60-gallon tank. I also told him the kitchen tap was squealing again, so he said he would look at that as well. In the meantime I guess I�ll go over to the sports centre for a hot shower. It�s been several days now and I�m starting to get a little ripe smelling, if I say so myself.
That just about wraps it up for now. It seems wasteful not to update when the little white box comes up on the first try. I know this will not be the case later in the day when I actually do have something interesting to say. I�ll most likely find myself being asked for someone�s password again.
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