Okay, I'm exhausted. I thought it'd be fun to change my study around today, as per yesterday's floor plan. This goes to prove that any plans made while terrifically bored should really be ignored. While the setup is okay, I somehow have huge piles of... of just crap, everywhere! Two teetering piles of paper (God only knows what's on any of them), piles of boxes, stuff that I didn't have anywhere to put before I did this room, and of course the ubiquitous perilous towers of books. I mean Pisa has nothing on these.

I'm dusty too. But I find my spirits lifted by a brilliant little paragraph from the beauty columnist in the Times Magazine... where is it...?

The moment I wake up by hannah betts Valentine’s Day is morally wrong. Just as the vampires in Buffy despise Hallowe’en as a night for amateurs...

Valentine’s Day is morally wrong. Just as the vampires in Buffy despise Hallowe’en as a night for amateurs, so observing Valentine’s Day is for men with names for their genitalia and women with toys on the bed. If my partner wishes to lavish costly diamond and emerald jewellery upon me then that is all very well. But I refuse to conform to the Noah’s Ark school of heterosexuality that insists that two-by-two formation must be observed. The only valid position to adopt come February 14 is to make merry with a representative of one’s own gender, or, should you happen to be of a homosexual persuasion, a token het.

Teeeheee! Imagine writing about makeup. All the free stuff you'd get sent, and all the spa days and stuff you'd actually get paid to go on! Wow. That'd be almost as cool as being a chocolate journalist.