I could just be in a bad mood, but I think the little messages in Dove Promises have started going downhill. Like, I'm pretty sure they aren't even trying anymore. Recent examples:

• "Hey, why not?"
• "Watch reruns, they replay your memories."
• "Smile before you go to bed. You'll sleep better."

I could just be in a bad mood, but I think there is a direct relationship between the amount of competition encouraged in a classroom and the success of the students. Because nobody wants to tell my classmates that they are DOING IT WRONG, this country will one day be run by people who cannot subtract 22 from 28.

I could just be in a bad mood, but I think that bubble wrap doesn't get the appreciation it really should. Do we have a statue in honor of bubble wrap yet? Made of bubble wrap? Was I allowed to vote for bubble wrap as the next president of the United States of America? No. Get off my lawn.

I am probably in a bad mood, but feel free to say something cheery in the comments. Grumpyskirts and her seven dwarves promise not to mock you until Wednesday.

I was at the church all by myself today, which is always super creepy, especially after dark. Walking by windows makes me feel vulnerable, and I expect someone to pop up at any moment and throw his whole body through the glass before stabbing me to death. I hear the tick of a clock down the hallway and immediately assume that the man who is about to stab me to death is timing his footsteps to fall right when the clock ticks, masking the sound. I turn on the folding machine and am unable to hear the sound of footsteps, so I expect to be grabbed from behind and stabbed to death.

Basically, I am always expecting to be stabbed to death. Which is terrifying, in case you were wondering.

So tonight, I noticed that the lights in the women's bathroom were on. These particular lights are motion-sensitive and turn off twenty minutes after any motion has been detected. I had been there much longer than twenty minutes, and I knew I hadn't been in the bathroom. I tiptoed to the doorway and listened carefully. I couldn't hear any noise, aside from the techno album my heart was trying to record at full volume inside my chest cavity.

I freaked out and went back to my office to ponder this. Who could be in there? A mouse? A homeless person? Another workaholic coworker?

Finally, I mustered up the courage to go back, telling myself that it would be fun to kick in the stall doors like they do in the movies. (And yes, actually, it's a lot of fun.) I got to the last stall and found that it was just as empty as the others, which should have brought relief. Instead, it just meant that I spent the rest of the night wondering where my future murderer was hiding.

Anyway, I am now in the comfort of my own home, but I can't shake that feeling that something is lurking in the shadows of my bedroom. Blah blah pretty much I wrote this entry to explain that I, at the age of twenty-three, am so totally sleeping with a light on tonight. Laugh at me if you want, but remember that I will have the power to send Stabber McGee to your bedroom when I am queen.

This morning, I mentioned on Twitter that UPS had delivered a lovely package to my house, addressed to Sexy Pirate Princess. I immediately knew that it had to be from my beloved friend, Sexy Beast. He's in the Marines now, so I should probably be the one sending him care packages and stuff. But no, my friends apparently like to spoil me exactly when I need it the most.

This weekend, I'm printing and folding and stuffing 600 bulletins for the church, printing and cutting 600 inserts for the bulletin, assembling 400 CDs and jewel cases, doing other miscellaneous jobs for some other bosses, leading two group projects for school, studying for a microeconomics test, doing four loads of laundry, paying bills, sending in my rebate for my phone, and trying not to catch my mother's cold. Oh right, and somewhere in there, I'll be crying myself to sleep.

That's what I thought, anyway. But there are no tears now. I opened my belated birthday present and my early Christmas present to find all this stuff:

Chocolate, chocolate, a cute little mug with an R on it, chocolate pirate coins, four CDs of his favorite band (Anberlin), and an adorable card. Plus! A light pink USMC sweatshirt, sprayed with his favorite cologne. This man is great-looking, great-smelling, and (as you can see) a great gift-giver. Ladies, if you aren't fighting over him already, you should be. Drop whatever you are doing and start sobbing because you are not dating this fine young gentleman. I'd be joining you, but I'm too busy inhaling the smell of the cologne.

Gosh dang. I have the best friends ever.