Everyone but me is in bed. Or at least I think they are. It's quite disconcerting, actually. See, I was sitting quietly, minding my own business and looking at pictures of cats on the internet, and suddenly the house went as dark as a tomb and all sounds ceased. Zac isn't even practicing his extremely loud viola (which he deems it necessary to trumpet (ish) all over the house almost constantly), and Kitty isn't anywhere to be found, which is extremely strange, because it is her wont to stay up until 3 in the morning or later whenever she can. It's 12:03 right now. What is going on? Do we have something tomorrow which I don't know about? I'm not very well informed, you know. I sort of loaf around the house and gather the crumbs of information that fall to me from on high. Dear me, that sounds rather depressing. Let us say that I'm free from all worry and care. Much more complimentary, non?
For reals though, dafuq is going on? Where is everyone? Have they all been kidnapped by the FBI? If they have been, I suppose I will have to go and rescue them, but I don't know how I will do that. I do fancy myself to be quite the badass, but I have no motorcycle and no shotgun, and not even the bare consolation of alcohol, being too young to have any of those things. Still and all, I will prevail. Maybe I can dress in lingerie and charm my way into the deep prisons that everyone will be sure to be held in. I don't know how I would get out, but surely that could come later. It's never a problem for badasses to do things like that. They sort of just make things up on the spur of the moment, stick a cigarette in their mouth, blow some stuff up, and become heroes. Ugh, but I don't want to be a hero. That's so embarrassing. I'd feel incredibly brawny and manly and Terminator-ish. Wouldn't his be an embarrassing existence? Like, you're a badass and all, but then you can't do anything normal because you're too stoic and muscular. You can't make muffins and drink tea and read poetry, because you probably don't know how to read. And you can't troll the internet, because you have no sense of humor. You can't stare at attractive asses in the mall, or buy inordinate amounts of Chinese takeout, or play Pokemon or sing in the shower or do anything at all! You probably don't even take showers! The only thing you can do is go on missions and save the world. That would get awfully old after awhile, yes it would. I don't want to be the Terminator. I'd rather be Bob from Engineering.
I had an eye appointment done today. The people seemed firmly convinced that I was in need of some glasses or contacts, and wouldn't let me do a thing until I had picked which ones I wanted. In vain were my protestations that I needed nothing, and I had to make so many decisions concerning my failing eyesight that I almost think it's a pity I didn't go ahead and get something. It would have assuaged their poor souls. Sungmin, though, was a different story. He needed glasses with a vengeance (and I suppose he still needs them, since they have not come in yet). He already has a pair, since he is almost supernaturally nearsighted, but apparently his prescription has changed, and his ocular wardrobe must be updated. (On a tangent, is it called a wardrobe because it wards your robes for you? That derivation, I think, is absolutely charming and adorable. It suggests a little robe-warding robot who is completely devoted and attached to you and your robes and would fight for you if the occasion ever arose. Kind of like the Wall-E of clothing. But that's neither here nor there.) So the poor doctors were left with the unpleasant task of helping Sungmin find a new pair of frames. I am nearly certain that he tried on each and every pair inside the office, and rejected them all. Finally, he grudgingly picked out a pair that looks exactly like his old ones, at which point the one unlucky doctor saddled with the task gave an audible sigh of relief. Good gravy and bless my soul. It's a picky little nit I'm related to. You know, I quite like the phrase "good gravy." Is that a bad thing? I suppose it is. I mean, Dagny Taggart would never say it. Hank Rearden never would either. Francisco might, but I'm not sure how closely I want to pattern my life off his. Might give people the wrong idea, you know. Still, talking in that manner might give me a countrified charm. I could be elected to office solely on the strength of one phrase and my arresting dimples. No one would ever want to know boring minutiae about federal spending or national healthcare when they could just look at my homey face and feel reassured. I could do whatever I wanted! I could rout all the social security to Estonia, and no one would even notice, because I would have started up a Fireside Chat program at the same time. I would be a wonderful evil despot. The only problem is that's not what I want to be. But you know. Details are for the plebeians.
I think I'm becoming stupid with the cold. It's very sad, but I must admit to the truth. My pate is becoming addled, and there is naught I can do. For, you see, I am beginning to love love. This is a terrible occurrence. I was all set to be a lonely judge, with only the cold comfort of the law to stay me in the night of my desolation (that sounds reeeal good), but now I'm starting to think that a man might not be such a bad thing to have about the place! I mean, it's cheaper for taxes, and he can buy things for me, and then I won't have to be awkwardly alone at parties. And I might get a cute relationship like in Atlas Shrugged. See, from there stems my problem! I was just fine before I started reading it, and when it was all about money, I was ok, but then bless me Ultima, if Hank and Dagny didn't start getting it on right in the middle of Ellis Wyatt's oil fields! (Well, in his house, really, which parenthetically seems quite rude, but that is neither here nor there.) It all went downhill from there. I used to think their relationship was cute and that was all, but now I'm actually cheering for them (which is futile, because Hank and Francisco were made for each other)! It's ridiculous! What have happened to my standards? I can't champion a relationship comprising ridiculous people! Oh dear. Wait. I think they do conform to my standards. They are both rich and good looking and intelligent, and they actually talk to each other, and can work together. They are even musical (or at least Dagny is)! Are they effing perfect? What is happening to my life? I don't even know anymore. Maybe I will fall in love someday. But that day is not today! Until then, I will continue on my paths of rectitude, striving to do my best by myself, and by the world. And I will look at vast amounts of cat pictures. For that is what warriors such as myself nobly do.
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