Cheers—I got a hacked-together version of this page put together, along with an auto-redirect, that allows Netscape 4.x users to read the front page of domesticat. There, my conscience is assuaged!

Booked the tickets for CanadaTrek this morning—can't believe I'm really going back to the Pacific Northwest. I wonder if the people who live there all the time realize just how beautiful it is up there? My lasting memory of Vancouver Island can be summed up in three words: drop dead gorgeous.

I have more questions to ask Brad. It's 11:20 now here—9:20 there. I'll call and see if he's wandered home from work yet.

Tomorrow: take Tenzing to the vet. I already know that he's better, and it's not going to take the vet long to see that. After that, recover the kitchen from tonight's curry extravaganza, and finish folding and putting away the clothes that I washed today.

Many things on my mind today.

Grocery shopping done. I got my CDs in from SecondSpin—more CDs purchased because I found music on Napster and wanted copies that I could play on the stereo and not just on my computer. Got my knives resharpened. Talked with friends.

Okay. At last, I present to you, my entries composed on my laptop while I was stranded in Arkansas during the ice storm. Enjoy. Laugh. I'll get back to my regular commentary soon; I just thought you guys might find it amusing to see some snapshots of what my mind was like as I was cooped up.

After several phone calls with Jeff, I'm packing up in hopeful preparation for leaving this place. He's apparently as twitchy as I am, and he's going to get all the concrete blocks he can from my parents and is going to try to drive the truck out to get me. If he can get out here to the hotel, then we can go home. I think they left about an hour ago.

Meanwhile, I'm just going to pace around this room. I won't look for him for another half hour, at least. Maybe he'll manage to get this far so we can go home.

Damn that stupid coffee. Not only did I stay up until two a.m., I slept through breakfast. I am really starting to lose my temper here, and being hungry doesn't help. But I did have fun watching contestants get manipulated on The Price Is Right. Great. So I wandered downstairs and raided the vending machine—again. They're out of Pop-Tarts and all of the good chips. It's me and Mr. Goodbar dining together again. When I get out of this sterile carcass of a hotel room I'm going to have a real honest-to-God meal with minimally-processed food. I'm craving vegetables.

I don't want to go downstairs. I want something to drink besides water, though. I just finished watching an episode of "The Operation" about hair transplant surgery, and I really need something else to think about. So I've fired up the mini coffeemaker provided with this room, and made a tiny little pot of coffee. I poured myself a cup of the stuff, and dumped eight packets of sugar and three packets of creamer into it.