Angels and ministers of grace

Please, oh please, help me get myself free of cat fur. Blake's been shedding enough to make several new cats. Zenia, Zenobia and Zapata all pointed at me when I walked into English class today. I love my cat, but I hate his stupid shedding. Half the cast of Macbeth now has Blake fur on them, too. I hate drama club so much. Mirabell's been demanding more and more special effects. I told him after practice that the words of Shakespeare should be enough, although I understood the Stuart theatre had special effects too. He told me to watch it or he'd make sure I couldn't get into Nipissing U, let alone U of T. Then he started sketching out the light design he wants Jerome to use for Act II.
Tomorrow is Duncan's friend April's birthday. I helped him get her a present: he said he wanted to get her something that said, I've known you for years, you're one of my best friends, I don't want to date you. It seemed hard, but we settled on a purse. Duncan didn't want to trust me on helping to pick one out since he said "Zandra, you don't use a purse, you've just got a gasmask bag you dyed black." I told him I just didn't like purses for myself, and he seemed happy. Now to go home: Arne's working on a new illusion, and my father's enjoying his last free night before he has to do everyone in town's taxes.