Grr.

Still no phoneline. I've faxed off my id, supposedly to prove for one and for all who I am. I thought it would be easier now that I have a SSN - American bureaucracies aren't really geared for recent immigrants - but of course there are complications. It's a bit worrying when you're asked a whole bunch of questions designed to prove your identity, none of which actually apply to you. (Q. What company do you have your mortgage with? A. What mortgage?!) I'm going to have to contact the credit bureau once I get my phone to make sure Osama hasn't taken out a mortgage using my id. (That'd be just like him too, the bastard!!!!)

My tv was broken during the move, and my computer is currently locked up in S's apt, so I have none of my usual addictions to fall back on. On the plus side, this has given me the motivation to break out the charcoal and start filling my sketchbook again, in between unpacking sessions. Also I've been reading some fun stuff for a change, most notably Diana Wynne Jones's _Conrad's Fate_ (disappointing, sadly,), some of John Crowley's short stories, and rereading Robin Hobb's _Fool's Fate_, which actually improved on me the second time around. I also got some literary criticism out of the lib, but every time I contemplate reading it I decide to go continue unpacking instead.

Oh well. Tomorrow is another day, like the movie says. :)