Everything's Different Now

As if to urge me forward in my party-planning, the word of the day today was imbibition. I consider it a form of cosmic perfection.

Today was another ghastly travail. After about three hours of sleep, I started work before 10 A.M. and have not stopped yet. I'm waiting for files to distill right now. But I have barely left my desk. When the FedEx guy came to my door, I realized I was wearing the same shirt I was wearing when he delivered to me yesterday. How embarrassing.

I'm bleary from troubleshooting and slumped over with the weight of it. But I'm nearly there. Lord, how I hope I'm not proclaiming that too soon.

So I'm tired of sitting here, but I got to see that The Problem with Popplers episode of Futurama a little while ago. I love this part:

"There are many good reasons to eat. Hunger, boredom, wanting to be the world's fattest man. But not revenge." - Jrrr of the planet Omicron Persei 8 (Lauren Tom)

And, owing to my hair and make-up, Sarah said I looked punk on Sunday. How do you like that. I liked it fine.

Oh, and in case you missed it, my pal Simon -- true to his calling of he who most reliably makes me feel grand -- left this comment about me on a recent post: "I declare, she's got a balcony you could do Shakespeare from." Is it just being Australian that grants him such a knack for paying a randy compliment? Anway, it suits me.

So that's that from the freelance desk. Correspondent signing out, eyes slitted with the weeness of the hours. I've been thoroughly trampled by my workload in the past few weeks. And I'm looking forward to a break just in time for my anniversarial celebrations. When drinking time arrives, no one will be readier than me.