The cactus on my windowsill is being clingy again. It keeps impaling itself on my curtains overnight, so when I pull them open in the morning, it makes a bid for escape out of its pot. As such, it isn't even potted properly - by the time I've wrestled it free from its deathgrip on the curtains, I'm out of the energy that I'm sure must be required to re-pot a cactus. How on earth are you supposed to do that? You can't press down on it!
So at the moment, my cactus looks like this:
Can't be good for its health, the poor thing. Also, check out my bed hair. BAAAAABE.
So it seems that today will be devoted to re-potting my cactus (and then possibly getting a skin graft, it's exciting times, folks), and also getting my Oklahoma! costume altered. It's purple gingham, so it's real purdy. I'm super excited for the show. Thank goodness it's not in April, though - I doubt I could handle the unbridled madness of having to write something of vague interest on here each day, as well as galloping around a stage, night after night, for a week, trying to get farmers and cowmen to get over themselves, for crying out loud.
Well, this has been a nice little chat, but I can smell breakfast-type smells coming from the kitchen now, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to go and eat them all.
Talk soon. lessthanthree.
Talk soon. lessthanthree.
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