Change is good. Change is necessary. With that in mind, I'm changing my template.

The fact that I have no specific knowledge of html is really beside the point. I've gotten this far, and I'm going to get through it. I'll just do what I always do: open a bottle of wine, and call Lorelei, who does know html.

Anyway, I was reading someone else's diary the other day, and laughed when I read that she'd just realized that not everyone on diaryland is in high school, that some writers are "old" and "have jobs." If "old" means "more than thirteen," I am most definitely old. And I do in fact have a job. What can I say? My trust fund is long-depleted, and I'm insecure about getting by on my looks.

Chavis and I had lunch today and discussed our individual career paths. The conversation degenerated into a brainstorm about how we might jerry-rig sexual harassment suits and retire with cash. An obvious solution would be for one of us to file a suit against the other, but since everyone already knows we're friends, the claim would be viewed with suspicion.

Other plans for success included:

• Winning the lottery


• Various lawsuits, e.g., "hostile work environment" claims


• Waiting for a mid-life crisis, then taking off and buying a BMW (problem: no specific money involved)

Negotiations broke down, but there's still hope for a bright future. In the meantime, until I can call Lorelei and ask her to fix my template, I'm thinking about things I want.

The Keelhauler likes to think of planning his life as akin to working a maze from the center out: Know where you're going to end up, and work your way back. "Ya hit what ya head for," he tells me over and over, and he does seem to end up with the things he wants.

A body at rest tends to stay at rest, but I think I hear my alarm clock.

Star of the day. . .Don Knotts