hell is other people

I had a really lovely day, and I am really really not ready to go back to work tomorrow. I spent the morning drinking coffee, journaling, reading, and writing while curled up under my favorite blanket next to my fireplace - and if that ain't fucking idyllic, I don't know what is. Then I ate lunch, showered, and walked a mile or so north to Tennyson St (which is actually west of me, but I walked to a shopping district that is north of me), where I had coffee at Allegro and actually wrote for another hour. I know, you're shocked. I'm shocked. I won't say more for fear of jinxing it and not writing for another six months, but today felt good, so I'm going to nurture that little miracle and see what comes of it.

Then I walked home (with a stop in a clothing boutique - this felt like a v. San Francisco kind of day, other than the fact that my nose almost froze off on the walk back). When I got here, I dealt with some laundry, then called my parents. They were in fine form, and we chatted for about an hour before it was time for us to eat our respective suppers. Mine was leftover chicken from Friday + a freshly baked potato, and it was all v. tasty.

Then I wasted a bunch of time on twitter, messed around with more laundry, sent some emails about Terry's bachelorette, etc. And now I should really sleep so that I can get up and write before work - goodnight!