Okay, so I'm sitting in the library listening to this awful man yell at and smack his daughter who can't be older than 3 or so. I wish I could say or do something, but it's not any of my business. Why isn't it any of my business? Shouldn't it be? Shouldn't people feel comfortable stepping in for someone who is helpless?

That ruined my mood, which was warm and fuzzy until now because of a wonderful movie I saw last night. (A French movie called Amelie. Go see it if you can. It was one of the best movies I've seen in a couple of years. I promise you will love it).

Also, I'm thinking things with the new boy are kaput. Haven't heard from him since we went out this weekend, and somehow, I don't expect to. I'm not too disappointed. I got my fun out of him. We never had anything much to talk about in common anyway. (I really would love a relationship based solely on sex at some point, however. Or a relationship which involved more nooky than I've been getting in any case. Not that I'm bitter.)

The little girl's stopped crying. She's just sitting while her father does some research. She's really remarkably well behaved. I hope her mother is nice.

My friend Stacia at work had a doctor's appointment the other day. She had ovarian cancer a few years ago and it seems to have come back. She opted for laser treatment rather than a hysterectomy (and who can blame her) but I think she's scared. I hate not feeling like I can say anything that will make it better. I still don't know her all that particularly well, but she is a friend. She was saying she wanted to throw a uterus party for herself. Maybe she could serve the bananas and chocolate concotion Erika S. and I ate in Prague. (That's a story, if you've never heard it).

I'm going home at 6:30 tomorrow morning. I'm so excited.