I hope I die before I get old

I'm sure most of you have already seen this, but if not, do. It's the fantastic version of The Who's My Generation by The Zimmers.

Yesterday, it was hot and humid; today, it's overcast and crispily cold. The perfect weather to have a nice, relaxing Sunday. The air smells like fresh, clean linen sheets.
Tomorrow, I'm going to have to start checking that the house is in order for the parents to come back to, but today is for myself.

Quote of the day: "Whatever you choose to focus your attention on, you will get more of it."

Find of the day: The Goth-O-Matic Poetry Generator. I've played around with this for a bit, and while it says a lot about emo Goth poetry, it says even more about poetry as a whole, and the ability of the reader to invest random words with meaning. Oh, I love literary criticism.

Panic, much?

I just got a text message from my parents saying that they'll be home tomorrow around twoish. I took a look at the home and garden and despaired. Another day of warning would have been nice.

eta: Following an afternoon of icecream sin in the name of moral support, I just had three fried herrings - and now I feel sick. Oh and by the way, the German name of fried herrings is an English verb: brathering.