plans with notes

[rivendellrose]

1. Sleep.
1b. Try to figure out why all I can remember of a dream from earlier this week is Christopher Eccleston (and/or the Ninth Doctor) dressed as a Roman soldier, complete with metal chestplate and red cape. Suspect Dead Ringers and/or leaked Season 4 photograph is to blame.

2. Go to Friends of the Library Booksale.
2b. Try to remember that I live in a small apartment, not the Trinity College Library or some such thing, and do not actually have room for the books I currently have.
2c. Fail miserably at 2b, most likely. XD

3. Buy a fall hat. Anyone with an idea where I might find said hat may please leave suggestions in comments, as I'm starting to feel pretty helpless.
Important corollary to 3: Do not go back to Nordstroms and buy the absolutely gorgeous hat that made me look like the star of a 1920s historical drama, because it cost $146, and no hat is worth that. No, seriously.

4. Find my dratted gloves. Or, failing that, buy new ones. But not the $25 brown wool gloves found at Macy's. They were lovely, but that is too much to spend on gloves probably.
Note: Yes, I bought gloves last weekend, but they were shoulder-length white kid opera gloves that fit me perfectly. One cannot wear said gloves unless one is going someplace suitable (...ie, a historical drama, which is apparently what I wish my life was lately, judging by recent evidence). Besides, they're nearly impossible to get on and off without patience and time.

5. Do not attempt to make a rag doll of the Ninth Doctor, because there's no way it would work.
5b. No, really. Doll!Ten is adorable and very squishy, but his predecessor's face does not lend itself to being drawn on fabric. Which is a great tragedy, IMHO.

6. Also do not scour the antique stores for a pocket watch. No, really. I know I've wanted one for ages, but it's the most impractical thing in the world. Aside from the kid opera gloves. But a pocket watch is certain to cost more than $5, even at the best antique store. So there.

7. Do not go back to salon and demand that they fix my hair. It looks like someone attacked the sides with a weed-whacker, but it's my own damned fault for telling the girl I wanted to keep the layers the prior girl had given me. Apparently she misunderstood my meaning as "I'd like layers even greater than the ones the other girl gave me, and would like a style that will look good a grand total of once, ie, when you do it up with a curling iron such as I will never figure out how to do properly."

...Oh yeah, and clean my bedroom. Because I apparently gave up on such silly things as drawers and closets at some point this week, and the area beside my bed is a mess.