Objects are made by men and used for many purposes. But we never love objects.

The descent into apathy or vengeance-oriented living I mentioned last post has been going well. Despite my occasionally passing significant swathes of time glowering out of windows at the rain like a Disney villain today, I still managed to be pretty productive, of which I will tell you about not at all.

I've got a bit of a gourd thing. I really like pumpkins. A lot. Too much. I like the weird ones--the little squat fantasy cinderella, the green-blue spooky kind, the noble white ghost pumpkin. There is this giant white one on a porch downtown that I pass every morning on my way to work, and it's all I can do not to vault out of my car and snatch it. Then I wouldn't go to work, I'd just go home and spend time with the pumpkin. But even regular plain pumpkins: the orange patch kind. God, I just like them so much. Not even only this time of year--all the times. Now I just have an excuse. And I'm going to take advantage of the season and buy a bunch this very week.

I changed my hair. I know objectively I still look really blonde, but this is seriously as dark as my hair has been in four years. I'm sorry about the obnoxious, sad-seeming selfie--between not wearing makeup today and the humidity, I looked like a sleepy poof lion. And it's like I said. I've got to work on my villain face.