I'm antsy. I have a ten page paper due at 7, of which I have written all but one and a half pages. Quite good really. What's making me antsy is a silver Mercedes. Every time the owner starts it it makes these noises like dying hyenas scratching their nails on a chalkboard. The owner drives it around the block, stops it in front of their building, then proceeds to start the whole thing up again. Just when I think I'm going to get relief from it, there it is again. I'd love to shut the windows, but it's too stuffy today to do that. Ahhh... Just now, to make things worse, really get the adrenaline pumping, a fire engine. It just about scared Isis out of her fur. She's a bit touchy, and when it sounded its horn she shot about a foot in the air. Funny girl, she's lived in the city almost her whole kitty-life, and the fire engines still get to her. Anyway, I'm just procrastinating, as I would rather be doing ANYTHING but writing about Aristophanes and the Peloponnesian War. It's so nice outside... I wish I could write this on the porch, but the urge to watch people would overcome me, and there isn't room for all the damn books. I should go... Back to the paper mill.