I finally have private entries working, and properly!

If you log in to domesticat.net, you'll discover a new-to-you entry. It's got details on how to update the link your RSS feedreader uses so that you'll see all the entries you're entitled to see.

(ObNote for anyone who finds this via a search engine: you want the Simple Access module and the Token Authentication module to make this work.)

I would also like to add this related note: beer drunk in celebration is doubly tasty.

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.

More television. During one of my restless moments, I opened the curtains to look outside. It was the first time I'd looked outside since twilight fell. I forget the eerie beauty that comes with ice storms. My window has icicles that vary between six and eight inches long. The asphalt parking lot twinkles in the light; there is at least an inch of ice there. I cannot even imagine what the roads must be like.