The door frame at the house has finally finished shattering at the top hinges. Jim Roberts, applied to, is arse-deep in the middle of grape harvest, but will try to make time to deal this weekend (preferably, I say, before the compromised frame gives up around the bottom hinges...)

My B&N order (containing my !@#$ Micro text and lab manual) is four days late. Discovered this was because I transposed two numbers in the ship-to address. (Facepalm.) Monday, they tell me.

A pleasant fifteen minutes spent with the allergy nurse this morning (that's sarcasm, folks -- although they at least apply a topical antihistamine afterwards, something unheard-of in my childhood) has yielded the news that I'm allergic to cats and to dairy, as well as all the usual suspects (dust mites, weeds, and nearly every tree that grows in Northern California or Ohio.) Even better, I have to give up one of my asthma control drugs because it (and nearly everything else in that particular drug class) contains milk proteins.

A friend is working on a Tarot deck and has arranged to come over on Sunday with three teenage models to take pictures of one of them aboard Petit Point. Me, I just hope this works, and that Petit Point is in a mood to stand around looking bored instead of demonstrating her piaffe.

Plus a lab quiz and a test for each of the two lab classes this coming week, plus a paper for the women's studies course, and a lab report for physiology (once the professor issues us the pooled data).

For my part, I am going to plan on at least 9 hours of sleep for three nights in a row. If that gets accomplished, I can cope with the rest.