Drugs abuse me, but I deserve it.

Today I had a brilliant idea. I waste 45 minutes in Richmond with nothing to do every day that I work, and call it a "break." Why don't I clean my car for the first time since October during that 45 minutes and live in slightly less filth for a change. So I did. Or rather, I spent 15 minutes cleaning the front seat, then said, "That's enough for today. I'll get the rest tomorrow."

Also, I have no hot water again, and it's happening with enough frequency that I feel I should contact my absentee landlord. The problem is that my apartment is so disgusting that I really don't want anyone to enter it, including myself. So, will cold showers and shame be enough to finally, finally get me to clean my apartment? I have my doubts, sadly.

On the other hand, I'm thisclose to having a clean bathroom, and if I can just not to do nothing for an entire week, I might claim a rare victory against the second law of thermodynamics. And, I plan on buying a snazzy keyboard of some kind next week to begin my inevitable rise to rockstardom, so I'll obviously need to clean some room.

On the drug front: My Worthless Inhaler gives me a terrible, terrible headache every time I use it. It's really bad for about five minutes, then just lingers for about an hour. It's most unpleasant. Also, I have no freaking clue about how often I'm supposed to be using it. A book at work said every 6 hours. My doctor said once a day and as needed. The paper that came with it says one or two puffs once or twice a day plus as needed. I'm confused. I'd be less confused if I could notice any effects outside of wicked headache, but I sadly do not.

Also, add Clearasil to the list of drugs that affects me too drastically to be useful. Clearasil not only gets rid of any pimples on my face, but then takes all skin nearby with it. Also, it's absolutely essential that I shield my face not only from the awesome power of the sun, but also from the awesome power of the 40 watt incandescent light bulb, as any exposure will fry my poor face to a crisp. None of this does wonders for my self-image, and I frequently wonder why I bother with it at all.