i think the antidotes to this deadly so-close-to-climbing-a-clock-tower-with-some-sort-of-rifle mood have been, in no particular order:

chainsmoking

listening to the boys talk about toasting to not blacking out

listening to the boys practice their sweet sweet rock and roll

the mr show dvd

the mr show dvd with commentary in which the commentators don't so much comment as they do get drunk and be funny

not having nightmares involving executions and terminal illness for the first time in a week

doing laundry and actually folding my clothes once i took them from the dryer

the first break in the heat in a month

finding "another girl, another planet" by the only ones on song spy

dancing to "another girl, another planet" by the only ones at 3am before i went down to the basement to watch mr show and then go to sleep without having nightmares for the first time in a week

i think that's it. maybe the kids in the hall helped too, but i can't be sure about that.

it sucks that fridays don't mean anything to me anymore. i have one more week of freedom in which i will no doubt not appreciate said freedom and then i start my job.