Oops
I love going to work late. It would be ideal if my job started an hour later. I wouldn’t at all mind getting out later.
I realize it’s a bit early to be thinking about it, but I’m steeling myself for Auto Show week – 12 hour days for 7 days in Cobo, generally running back and forth (though also editing video like a madman).
I’d best stock up on tylenol or something, ’cause I’ll be hurtin’.
I’m going to visit Katrina (the first woman to corrupt my body, I should thank her for that someday) tonight, way out in the Clem. Her daughter’s 2 now, and judging by her voice on the phone (she insisted on speaking to me), highly entertaining. Whenever I eat indian food, I remember it’s the fault of her family that I tried it, and learned to like it.
Lucy made me stroganoff while I edited her short story, and it made for a fun evening of “doing our things in the same room” before we cuddled up for some Batman Begins action.
And then I terrorized her bird’s playset, Godzilla-style. (No, the parrotlet wasn’t on it.)