(no subject)

I have twelve things to do, four hours to do them in and I'm being lazy. Blogging is displacement activity. I blame my brain. It's doing all kinds of odd things right now. I found myself nearly writing a letter to a friend using their pen name. Now I wonder, would they have worked out it was from me or would they have assumed I was an unknown, being presumptuous?

No more big letters till tomorrow. My mail and email is backed up to infinity already, so infinity and beyond is a good place for it to travel. Only little emails (in between crossing items of my list) and I'm taking the whole evening off. I have an appointment with Nelson Eddy and a friend has an appointment with Claude Rains.

PS I cleaned up the typos and they reappeared when I posted. Was it LJ or was it me? This is a great mystery of life.