Thursday,
March 7, 2002

It's oh so quiet. . .

I'm home. I woke up this morning when Steve called, and caught a reflection of myself in the bathroom mirror. I no longer have bags under my eyes -- I have steamer trunks packed with Elton John's touring wardrobe.

So I told him to drive in on his lonesome and I would be following later. Maybe. Maybe turned into, "fuck THIS shit" sometime around 11:00 am, when I realized that the thought of putting on makeup and heading out the door made me want to burst into tears.

I know "I'm tired" doesn't work as an excuse, really, but look at my schedule for the last 3-4 weeks -- I've either been traveling somewhere or catching up on stuff that fell through the cracks while I was gone. Two weekends included one travel day, one weekend was a con so I was essentially working all that time. And I had the sinus infection in SF that just kept on and on and on. And even so, I've managed to drag my tired ass to the gym every day this week to do cardio or a cardio/weightlifting split.

You bet your sweet pink ass I'm tired. And they OWE me for traveling on my own time, dammit.

So I'm home. And quilting. And finishing up Season Two of "Sex and the City," interspersed with Season One of "Stargate: SG-1" (although I keep giggling insanely whenever something in the show brings up memories of "Dr. Jackson's Diary"). And tonight, I intend to sprawl around like a slug and relax some more.

I could get to like this. Yeah.

But while I'm still vertical

Let me just give a shout out to Petunia, the newest addition to my Other Cool Journals page and quite the young pistol herself, judging from what I've read of her journal. Of course, any woman who includes quotes from "Nekkid, Clueless and Feelin' Good" in her own journal is obviously a creature of superb taste and elegant demeanor, and should be immediately read by everyone.

What are you waiting for? That was a hint. Go.