1. No matter how carefully I study them, I feel I will never truly understand extroverts. They are like some fascinating alien life form. Frequently exasperating, but fascinating.
2. Ever since I finished watching Max Headroom on DVD, I have had "Love for Sale" by the Talking Heads stuck in my brain, as some decision-making process deep in my cortex has decided that that is the actual theme song for that show, no matter what boring electronic thing they actually used. And, man, the Talking Heads are great and all, but it's starting to get old. (Also, verdict on Max Headroom: It hasn't aged remotely as well as the people who made it seem to think, and the title character is just as stupid as I remember. But there was definitely something there, and it was clearly in the process of maturing when it abruptly got cancelled. If nothing else, it's an interesting window into its times. Also, Morgan Sheppard is awesome. And Matt Frewer used to be disturbingly attractive when not covered in prosthetics. Even if he does sort of sound like a Muppet.)
3. Now that Mickey the kitten is leaving me soon, I keep alternating between feeling I already miss him like crazy and thinking guiltily about how much more peaceful it will be when he's gone. Also, I appear to be attempting to pack an entire kitty-lifetime of worrying about him into one remaining week. And then, true to my own neurotic tendencies, I get stressed out by how much I'm worrying. Sigh. Have I mentioned lately what a very, very good thing it is that I've never had kids?