I actually finished a pretty good entry during the snow, but I didn't post it because it had the word cunt in it, and seemed sassier than I really was. I don't feel sassy this week. The stars have promised me that the moon will phase out of apathetic Aquarius any moment here now, but all I feel is this vague sense of heaviness. My stomach hurts, and I wish I was having my hair petted. So, rally. Let's say: fake it.
A girl with a clean sink and a good hair day could be doing a lot worse. I looked up and caught my reflection in the tall windows; my roots are already getting a little sun streaky.
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