her skin is cinnamon

So I can tell that I don't like my job right now because of my hands. I have this weird nervous habit where I pick at the skin around my fingernails. I do this even when I'm fine, I've done this as long as I can remember. But when I am really bored or nervous or unhappy, I make myself bleed.

I gave myself one bad enough on my thumb that YM and, the Phew of all people, have noticed and said something about. Then there was some stupid meeting today and I was bored, and I did some more damage.

In other news, I love how ghetto my car is becoming. It's pretty old, and I haven't had too many "real" problems with it, but all the sudden random things fall off. This speaker in the door just fell out one day, and now it's the volume knob on my radio.

The other musing I've had lately is regarding moths. These guys seriously must be the Pauly Shores of the insect world. They're SO STUPID. What possible evolutionary directive could they be following by randomly swarming around light and seriously wounding themselves? Anyway, this is because there's a light by the front door of my apt building that attracts them. It's right at head level and next to the door, so they will literally fly into me and my hair. It's kind of like my own mini The Birds. Plus, when anyone opens the door, they bolt for the light in the foyer, and so the whole inside of my apt building is just randomly littered with dead moths who apparently flew around in there till they died of no food or whatever. It's kind of macabre, not to mention depressing. I feel sorry for them.