August 25, 1999

You can still CLICK HERE to see my best pal, Edmund Kaz -- in all his glory and splendor. (And no, that isn't Bottlenekk standing next to him. Sheeeeeeesh. Didn't any of you people ever go to Woodstock??)

Deeply tired. It's beginning to feel permanent again.

David just dropped me off here at home, after a nice dinner at the other end of the island. Originally we had actually planned to cook tonight: we're sorta worried about the amount of money/time/calories we're spending in restaurants lately. We even went grocery-shopping last night, in anticipation of this fabulous MEAL we were gonna lovingly prepare with our own little hands. But when David picked me up at the office tonight -- after another long, hot, Franz-intensive day -- the very last thing in the world I felt like doing was firing up the ugly Pink Stove. 

The next thing I knew ... there we were, looking at MENUS again. 

Now he's off shooting hoops at the park for an hour. I was invited to come along -- as always -- but I opted to stay home and take advantage of a little mid-week "Alone Time," ostensibly to catch up on the website, and run a quick load of laundry, and make my lunch for tomorrow, and clean up the kitchen, and do my nails, and organize my wardrobe for the rest of the week, and write to my mom and my daughter and my sister, and get ready for another busy work day.

So far, I've tossed a limp pair of No Nonsense into the bathroom sink and squirted them with Palmolive. Then I peeled the mascara off the lashes of one eyelid.

In a moment or two, I may have regained sufficient energy to *do* the other eyelid.

Or else not.




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