Shower. Dishes. Walk. Shovel. Throw down some salt. Clean The Blue and Only Bathroom. Make the bed. Eat cheerios. Dishes. Xword. Take out [more] recycling. Turn on Ninja. Change outta walking layers into bizcaz. Put on makeup (yes). Pack lunch. Drive to work. Word. Excel. Email. I/M. Html. Css. Javascript. Flowcharts. Screenshots. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. x12 or thereabouts. Pack up computer while entertaining co-workers with loverly little stories about my so-called life. The time the guy at the so-called outfitter store tried to refuse to sell me a pair of hiking sandals. Apparently my raggedly old feet scared him. The people that used to call me in the middle of the night thinking I was one Amy Finlayson, party girl extraordinaire apparently. Sorry, I have done my share of partying but I am not her. And that story’s corollary, which was the Pi-hi guy who called me about one Andy Finlayson, who was apparently skipping school. I don’t know. I don’t know an Andy Finlayson. He thought I was lying. I was not. How we get on these odd little topics, I do not know. Finally outta there. Drive home. Putter around for 20 minutes. Walk downtown. Two cocktails and dinner at the Old Town. Actually three cocktails. Because the waitress misunderstood me when I asked for a Merlot and brought me another Manhattan instead. I didn’t complain. It was busy and LOUD in there. I split it with the GG, who had been contemplating a third himself. Walk home. Big glass of ice water. Aannnddd… Sitting in front of the faarrrrr barely keeping my eyes open. That is, until just now when sparks flew out onto the carpet. Long week. Gibberish. All of this. Goodnight. Over and out. Mañana.

This entry was posted on Friday, January 14th, 2011 at 9:58 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.