Monday,
March 1, 2004
It's one of THOSE Mondays
You
know -- when you wish you could win the Lotto just so that you could get up
and never, ever have to come into work again?
And it's not even anything major, really -- I'm just being nibbled to death by ducks (or cats, if any Centauri are reading). I need to go home, watch some Stargate:SG1 and finish my article.
At least there's one good thing I discovered -- my manager loves SF. Must see if he's interested in stuff by any of the people I know. In the meantime, the finances suck and I'm deciding which bills can be paid right now. Juggle juggle juggle. . .
What else? Well, I'm still coasting on the afterglow from yesterday (didn't Liv Tyler look gorgeous? Didn't Peter Jackson look hobbity? Didn't Bill Murray look spleened?), and Steve is heading for a contract job in the Great White North for the next six to nine months, so I hope he drives safely and has a tolerable trip. Apart from that, nothing much is going on in Chez Fletcher, kids.
I know -- boring, innit? Oh, I think I have the flu, and the crimson tide is slated to start sometime this weekend so I'm in the throes of PMS -- does that count?
Bah. . .