well, i'm in the thick of article-writing now, and my pulse rate has slowed to an appropriately meditative thud. things are still pretty good with me, although not with frogs - they're dying by the truckload, and i have decided to skip the Smithsonian lecture today by a Zimbabwean scientist, which looked interesting, to finish the article or at least make appreciable headway. the plight of the frogs sucks, though.
nonetheless, i'm in a cheerful frame of mind, having disdained a shower and a change of clothes for the past couple days. i have to report, however, that after approaching me in trucelike fashion, with arms extended and a smiling offer to teach me the parts of the body in spanish, das Baby (who i've given the aforementioned moniker Xica da Silva) has once again decided to revile me, yelling over and over the phrase "you are not my lover!" ("tú no eres mi amor!") whilst pointing to all the things in the room (door, chair, window, cough medicine, etc) that apparently are her lovers. well, it's probably better that way - for me, a lack of pedophilia, with its concomitant police record and negative newsprint publicity, is and will always be a good thing. anyhow, that's the status of the mercurical Xica. fort-da! this proto-lady is truly a freudian subject.
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