I am exhausted. (I seem to start a lot of entries that way. Maybe I should just let everyone assume I'm exhausted, since I usually am. Something to ponder.)

My hair is trimmed and highlighted and tres cool. Pictures to follow when I'm somewhat less exhausted. Suffice to say that I was way overdue for a haircut.

When I left the salon, the day was just too gorgeous to get right back on the subway, so I walked for a while and did assorted little errands (more ping-pong balls for Cricket, prescriptions at the pharmacy, that sort of thing). My foot still hurts a lot, so maybe walked isn't quite the quite the term I'm looking for; limped and hobbled would be more accurate. I pushed myself to keep walking anyway. I don't know if that was the right decision.

After that, I had to move the car. You know that I hate moving the car. But I'd left it at a meter last night out of sheer desperation, and I had to move it to a resident parking spot today. I have learned that this situation is not helped by circling the block, so I pulled up near a little intersection on a road leading to a dead end and waited.

And waited, and waited, and waited. By the time someone pulled out of a suitable parking spot, I'd been sitting in my car for an hour. An hour. I kid you not. When I'd eased the car into the spot and shut off the engine, I sat there for a few minutes, drained of energy, my forehead on the steering wheel.

Damn, am I glad to be home.

Having an injured foot is an incredible annoyance. I had plenty of time to think about the errands I need to run on foot while I was waiting for a parking space. I need to go to City Hall to get a new resident permit (mine expires March 31). I need to go to an RMV express office and get a new driver's license (mine expires April 3). I need to go to Back Bay Station and buy a subway pass for April (you can figure this one out, right?). And I'm enormously reluctant to do much walking.

Also, I need to study for a photography test this Friday and write a paper for rhetorical theory which is due next Tuesday. Whine.

But my hair looks really cool.

Total subject change: I was looking through old e-mails, trying to thin out my inbox, when I stumbled upon this gem. It made me laugh all over again, so here you go:

Five Germans in an Audi Quattro arrive at the Italian border. The Italian Customs agent stops them and tells them, "It's illegal to put five people in a Quattro."

"Vot do you mean it's illegal?" asks the German driver.

"Quattro meansa four," replies the Italian official.

"Qvattro is just ze name of ze automobile," the German retorts. "Look at ze papers: zis car is designt to kerry five persons."

"You can'ta pulla thata one on me!" replies the Italian customs agent. "Quattro meansa four. You have fivea people ina your car and you are thereforea breaking the law."

The German driver replies angrily, "You idiot! Call your zupervisor over, I vant to speak to somevone viz more intelligence!"

"Sorry," responds the Italian official, "He can'ta come. He'sa busy with two guys in a Fiat Uno."