unoccupied hands

i'm fidgeting. not much to do. no straws in sight to placate my oral fixation. i can't concentrate on the work i need to do. when i'm distracted my eyes start to wander. when my eyes start to wander i sometimes stare at my hair. when i stare at my hair i start to play with my hair. when i play with my hair i notice my split ends. when i'm wearing a black skirt and a black sweater, i really notice my blonde split ends. i need a haircut.

quote of the day
Whatever became of the moment when one first knew about death? There must have been one. A moment. In childhood. When it first occured to you that you don't go on forever. It must have been shattering, stamped into one's memory. And yet, I can't remember it.