Lots of nibbly things for the Oscar party. We've got 20 people coming this year. (Gulp!) But hey, if you want to drive down, sure, come!

Oh, but then I'd have to miss my celebration with the Somervillains (for finishing my incompletes). Maybe next year. Must have margaritas.

Groceries are delivered and put away. Yay! Food!

Don't count dates, Kate. Everyone will have a story that supports your fears, or contradicts them. Use your judgment based on your gut and interaction.

You know, this sounds like very good advice. Thanks.

Augh, Jessica. I hate those kinds of dreams. My sympathies, but I hope the party is fun and worth at least a little bit of the stress beforehand.

Timelies!

Kate your date sounds fantastic. Jessica, the dream sucks.

This morning my alarm went off and when I went to hit snooze I accidentally hit my answering machine and the message from my supervisor called. Tomorrow there is a function after work and I agreed to help out and she was calling to say that she thought I might need to wear my comapny logo shirt instead of being kind of dressed up.

I hear this and freak out because I haven't done laundry and omigod how could I be so irresponsible and I stayed up too late so how am I going to function. But Is started looking for the clothes, it was 6 and dry ell takes 30 mins so I figured I'd be okay. Well the shirt has to be washed but I could manage that too. Only, I couldn't find anything and then I start to really panic and try to figure out what I'm going to do and around 6:15 it strikes me that my weekend was incredibly short and I don't actually remember Sunday and maybe it actually IS Sunday. Then I calmed down and went back to bed. I've been up for an hour and laundry is my top priority.

Oh dear, Askye, what a rough way to wake up.

Jessica, yuck dream. You have my sympathies.

meara, you are the kind of person that the universe owes many offers of good, such that you have to pick and choose or be overwhelmed. Thus, I declare that the good is just beginning.

Kate, I think the date sounds fabulous, and if you're happy, then that's all that matters.

Oh, askye, what a crappy way to start the day! At least it's still Sunday, though.

My paper is now up to 12 pages. It's supposed to be 8-10. Fortunately I already know that he doesn't care if it's a little long, but jeez... And I still have SO much left to explore. It's crazy.

My response to Kate's date was not "I think they're moving too fast." It was, "Go Kate."

Poor askye. There's nothing like waking up to an adrenaline rush.

I had a very strange dream last night in which some guy who I had only gone out with once or twice had decided that we were going to get married and live in this very nice condo. He had just graduated from law school and wanted to get his whole life settled all at once. He had all these ideas for the condo, but somehow he had never seen my house. I kept saying, "First you have see how many books I have." I kind of understand where the condo came from. They've been heavily advertising a new complex near me, and I had been looking at the pictures and wondering if I could stand not having a yard. But where did this much younger guy come from?

But where did this much younger guy come from?

Does it matter? Also, if it weirds you out too much, feel free to send him my way.

Timelies! All the yucky dreams and bad wakings up should just go away, now. I so decree.

I really want someone to come decorate my bedroom. Watching Trading Spaces makes me cranky that all my walls are just plain white. But I'm too lazy to paint on my own (I'm no Anne.) Although, if I buy the paint, I'm pretty sure I could convince my daughter to do it. She likes to paint (I think she's a tad loopy, myself.)

Ah, well, back to cleaning out the closets in her bedroom so she can hang her clothes up.

Hec, as always you fill me with "Love and Happiness".(Wow, three discs. Just, wow. If I wasn't a hardboiled crime writer, I'd get all giddy and shit.) Vw, also wow, because that is the stage in paper-writing where I realize "Gah! Too short!" and start pulling half-remembered facts out of my shapely crippled ass and going insane with prepositional phrases to get my count up.