A somewhat random question, which I'll shortly explain and actually want you to answer: Do you write in your own birthday on calendars?

My mom and I were discussing this the other day, when I was looking at the family calendar and saw that she'd neglected to write her own birthday in. I always note my birthday on my calendars, day planners, etc. And it's not just ego, believe it or not. I'm actually afraid that I'll get amnesia and forget when my birthday is.

I blame this weird-ass phobia on reading "Sybil" when I was young (eight or nine). Out of all the things in that book which really disturbed me, the one that stuck with me the most is when she would come out of a fugue and find herself in a completely strange place without knowing how she got there or what she'd done. Creepy!

I got a lot done yesterday. I wrote for straight hours on this story I've had in my head for about four years and have never written a word of. I have a few issues with it, but it's actually turning out to be more interesting than I originally imagined (if I do say so myself?)

When I finally took a break, I got all involved in cleaning (blech) which was even less fun than usual because it was so freaking hot outside - and inside, because the air conditioner wasn't working. Once done, I collapsed in my room with ice water and "The OC." I always forget how much fun that show is (was), and how many attractive people are (were) in it. Ha.

I went to bed at ten, and found myself unable to fall asleep for super years. Then I did, and woke up feeling all refreshed and ready to get up and take on the world! Which meant, of course, that it was still the middle of the night, two a.m. to be precise. I fell back asleep until six and woke up feeling exhausted. Not fair, or fun.

Today was one of the dragging-nest days of work I've had in awhile. There's a certain project that I keep thinking I'm done with, and then some teeny-tiny thing pops up and annoys me.

I was so proud of myself: I quit caffeine today... until about 5:30, when my head threatened to explode. I drank what may very well be the last Dr. Pepper in the house, and felt better instantly. And now, I'm really going to quit! You know, until we buy some more.

Other food-related news: They need to invent some new animals and/or other foodstuffs, because I'm pretty much sick of everything (yet I remain fat; how troubling); and I so want to join the potato of the month club! My bosses get these awesome fruits every month from their publicist (or whatever she is) and I figure that, since potatoes are the best thing ever, the potato of the month club should be the ass-kickingest club ever. Am I right?