I love a fireplace. Even when it's hot.

Too much play time. If there is such a thing. Too much late-nighting it. Too much no-sleeping it. Too much buying coffee in the wee hours on my way home and reheating it later in the evening so it can maybe pep me up in time for the night I have planned. Too much bad pool-playing.

I had a pretty great few days. I did my reffing runthrough. I had a spirited political discussion. I ate eggs benedict. I asked myself if I am perhaps misremembering all I learned from Donald Duck in Mathmagic Land. I bought my little sister pretty green martinis. I made new friends. I was a good friend. I skipped a lot of meals. But not enough. I want to have skipped at least twice as many. And I saw the sun come up time after time after time. Which is something I don't always get to -- or want to -- do.

On Friday night, bartender Jeff announced that whoever had put that Gomez song on the jukebox was going to do a shot with him. I jumped up and exclaimed, "It was meeeeeee!" And there has never been a prouder spaz. I sing counterpoint to songs I know when no one is around to hear. And I often wish I wrote some of it down for later.