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February 17, 2004

Two Days After
Although, truly, I did very little drinking at the Valentine’s Day Massacre we threw this weekend (a spot of home-made sangria, one cider, a gulp of Southern Comfort), Sara and I were both royally exhausted the following day. Still, that day was made up of face-time with good friends (and Best Men) and a lot of walking in moderate-to-respectable cold. Punctuate the day with a trip to the Canterbury Park card room, where I dutifully did not play, and a little bit of incoherent Xboxing, and that was Sunday.

Monday, then, wasn’t the late-to-work, back-on-track day I expected. It was a cloudy-in-the-sky and cloudy-in-the-mind haze of an over-sized cajun breakfast I almost didn’t eat, an amazing lack of appetite, and a magnificent flat tire on Sara’s car that turned the day into a delightful circus of tow trucks, tire shops, and estimated time-tables. Thus, I never even got into the office, so now I’m behind for the week. Joy, oh joy, to that.

Coming in to the office, though, won me a nice cheap hub for the home (which is essential now, see left) and a bonus network adapter. Good stuff. Add to that bad news from a writer on a very tight deadline, a bad review, my headache, and an embarrassing need for a neck tie for tomorrow night, and this Tuesday is looking like the dictionary illustration of a Monday. Which day, then, will I lose in spirit this week? I hope it’s not Friday, precious Friday.

Noise: The Shins

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