2:08 a.m. I've been working all day on adding a whole lot of new fonts to my already huge and possibly the most complete and perfect font system in the universe. I have a complicated process I go through that involves several tricky steps and culminates in a colored-paper printout sample of the font at the end of the line.

Very satisfying. I have nine thick loose-leaf binders of said printouts, organized by type of font. Again, mighty satisfying. I'm a little disoriented, however, because I've had to take my normal fonts out of the system to effect this massive, careful printout and so I am typing this entry in a foreign font and I am not feeling right about it.

The words don't seem to be flowing properly.

It's amazing, really, how many little routines compose a typical day and how if you disrupt one or two of them --

-- like this evening, the light blew out over the kitchen sink and when that happens, you know you have to put the exact same bulb in to replace it, the same wattage, or everything will seem screwy, right? And you know that the light over the kitchen sink is clearly the most important light in the entire house, right?

So, I'm thinking of dying my hair red. True.

I think if I were a redhead, I'd be able to become a more demanding person. Redheads seem to part the seas of discontent and cut straight through the middle of the muddled masses. Redheads are decisive and -- well, they're demanding. I'm writing in Helvetica tonight, instead of the usual Verdana, and the words are reluctant. Grudging.

So, demanding it is, twice.

If my hair were reddish instead of blondish, I know I would be thin. I think I would catch a glimpse of a red curl on my shoulder and I would suddenly remember that I am the center of the universe, and I would not eat any more leftovers.

I've never had a manicure, and I never want to have one. I've only had one massage, and that was pretty traumatic. I had a huge headache by the time it was over, although I noticed when I was taking a shower to rinse off the almond scrub, that I was very smooth. Preternaturally so.

I just felt so incredibly obligated.

I've also never been to Disneyland, and I hope I never have to go. I did end up at the circus, for a charity thing, and it was as bad as I'd imagined it would be. Grim plodding elephants, spandexed human hard candies hopping on spinning balls, rippling house flanks, swinging from the ceiling spider webs of demanding outstretched family hands. And straw.

I am a word person. A happy turn of phrase, please. And make it a double.