I woke up this morning to find one of my pillows on the floor, the other under my stomach and I had flipped in my sleep so my head was on the end of the bed where my feet usually are. It bodes well for the rest of the morning.

My father sent me another e-mail trying to railroad me into taking this interview for this job I don't want -- which, even if I wanted to go, I couldn't because of the job I have now that I need to be at -- and again telling me that wonderful catch phrase of how I need to "invest for my future." I think if I hear that one more time from him, I'm going to throw up. The fact that even when he's 3000 miles away, he still thinks he knows exactly what my life is like, what I'm doing wrong and can give me all these directives as to how to make my life "better" in his eyes both slightly amuses me and yet also thoroughly infuriates me. The man desperately needs a hobby other than pestering his son.