(no subject)

[d_aulnoy]

You know, I've just realized: all of the most beautiful women I know have red hair.  It kind of makes me want to dye my hair red again, except then I remember how awful I am at upkeep, and also, that none of the beautiful red-haired women of my acquaintance, running from titian-red to henna-ed, from the bright color of copper pennies to the near-aubergine red hair of the natural New Yorker, ever have roots.  That discourages me.

Also, I am now doing what I typically do when I am dissatisfied: I am redecorating.  Tonight, fletcherschloe  and I painted my carried-home-by-drunk-friends-first-year and painted-blue-by-an-ex dresser (in its original off-the-street incarnation, its bottom revealed a small vial containing an undetermined substance, an atlas, and three pens: I decided that it had been owned by an OCD-suffering drug mule) a solid and glossy black so that it could take its place in its new home, the bedroom.  Tomorrow I will rearrange the study.  I am quite aware that, short-term, it would make much more sense for my peace of mind to, oh, work on my dissertation, or prepare next term's syllabus, or write out the Iowa lectures.  Nevertheless: the subcutaneous itch of unsatisfactory surroundings trump all of that.  V. odd.