(no subject)

I think I might die tomorrow. Either that, or kill someone, if A Certain Person in my English class doesn't get back to me a.s.a.p. Stress is a nasty ugly evil thing. >_>

More immediately, our dog has put the two ends of his rope toy together (we bought him one of those chewy-on rope toy thingies when we first got him, and he chewed it to pieces). He's been carting around the separate pieces for a while now, but seems he's just decided he wants a whole one again. Currently, though, he's on Fey's bed and giving me a look that asks me, from the bottom of his doggy heart, Why doesn't Mommy ever let me play in her bath, with all the nice bubblies?

Oh, dog.