My back still hurts. And no, I'm not going to stop whining about it until it stops hurting. I stopped in the chiropractor's office today and took a spin on the traction table, which helped. I didn't actually see the chiropractor, just his assistant, and yesterday he actually told her that when I came in today she was supposed to administer some kind of therapy that I don't remember the name of, but it wasn't the traction table; but I was too tired to point that out to her, and besides, the traction table feels gooood.

Before the chiropractor, I met with a career counselor at the college (who turned out to be someone I went to high school with who was a year or two ahead of me, and now it's bugging me trying to remember her maiden name) and got signed up for my internship. Silly me, I have already forgotten the name of the organization with which I'll be volunteering; but I remember what I'll be doing, which is accompanying court appointed counselors working with children in child abuse cases. That should be interesting. It could also be pretty heart breaking and gut wrenching. They said I'll get a two week trial, and if it turns out to be too much for me to handle, I'll be able to get out and be placed somewhere else.

I also finally got my parking permit and my student ID. My ID photo does not make me look like I have Down Syndrome, I'm pleased to report.

After the chiropractor, I went to the unemployment office to finish my paperwork and show my two forms of ID. They said it will take about three weeks before I get my first check, which is bad, because I'm stone broke. My tax refund is supposed to go out this month. Please, oh please let it be soon.

I just ran out of coffee. That's not good. That's not good at all.

But here's something that is good: my poem Pretty has made the semi-finals in one of the $1,000 prize contests at Poetry.com, and it's going to be published in one of their anthology books, so that's pretty cool. The book costs $49.95, and I am welcome, but not obligated, to purchase a copy. I'll have to see if my mom wants to get one. I don't have enough of a burning desire to see my poem in print to spend $50 on a book myself. Just knowing it's out there will be satisfaction enough. Winning the $1,000 would bring even more satisfaction.

I should go bathe Fizzgigg. His eyes are all crusty and he smells funny. I've been putting off his bath because he's injured and so am I; but I think I'm up to it, and judging from the way he has absolutely no trouble tearing after the cats, I think he's up to it, too. But first I should finish a beta-read of a fanfic that I promised someone long, long ago, and I need to check on the progress of next week's episode of War!, and I need to write an entry for Bewitched, Bothered & Bewildered, and I need to fill out some new scholarship applications over at Fastweb, and I need to finish the last installment of Future Imperfect, and I need to finish rewriting the first and last chapters of my novel and send the manuscript out to my wonderfully skilled and oh-so-helpful beta readers, and I need to clean my bathroom and do laundry and pick up all the crap that the kitten has strewn around the floor.

Yeah. I'll go do all of that just as soon as I've finished my "morning" web routine. Maybe I'll come back with some links.

Of course you realize, that's code for "I probably won't do any of that stuff today."

Oh, and one last thing before I forget: Happy birthday, sissy! Hope I haven't frightened you off with the cursing!