Oh, I feel famous today. I am pictured in Kt's best-and-worst, and referred to, briefly, in David's, which I won't link to because I'm pretty sure he hates that, and (smirk, smirk) I'm the jackass near the bottom of Wayne's second-most-recent entry. They call me a Grammar Bitch for a reason!

Today is my...uh...sixth-to-last at Census. JPSM has been such a sweet deal logistically and money-wise that it's almost possible not to notice the fact that I spend nine straight hours a day in a cubicle in a cave with no natural light. I mean, not even an incandescent bulb. It's all greeny-yellowish fluorescent around here, and despite my constant bitching about the Washington weather, I miss the sun.

Home life is currently OK, although I will say --discreetly, I hope-- that there are certain things I just don't want to know. There are also, damn it, supposed to be public and private spaces in every house, and while I was willing to tolerate a blurring of that line while it was necessary for Peace, I am not willing to tolerate a blurring of that line when it represents nothing more than a demonstration of domestic control. The thought seems to be, the more of my stuff I can install in the living room, the more I am The Man. All I'm asking for is cleanliness--or a DMZ, or something. However--no worries. At least we're talking.