The night seemed to start well, despite the fact I had a sweet potential apartment snatched from under me. I spent the early evening hanging out with an (equally) opinionated cyclist grrrl who was a blast. The fact that I nearly missed the movie screening (Orson Wells' "A Touch of Evil") at the cost of tweaking my knee on the breakneck ride across the city, wasn't so bad. I shouldn't have cut my getting ready schedule so fine. Things got worse though when I realized I had forgotten my wallet and couldn't pay for our shared post movie pizza. I like to project a minimum social competence whenever I can - denied. The ride home went OK, as I was only buzzed twice and had my light die on me. However, following a sleep repeatedly interrupted by loud folk outside my building, I have to report the early morning just plain sucks. I overslept, missed an appointment, dropped a coffee mug, lost a phone number (at some point last night), and, figuring I'd just stay in, not court bad karma, was attending to some chores when I had the following mental conversation with myself:
"Huh, that's funny. Looks like all my court-dress shirts I'm taking out of the dryer are stained, almost like I dried them with a ball point pen that exploded or something."
"Fuckitty Fuck Fuck!"
The Gaels divided their day by nightfall - i.e. the new day begins at sunset. I will be hiding in my apartment until then, not touching or doing anything. Tonight, hopefully in the safety of the dark next day, I'll be having dinner with The Unpronounceable Name. I hope to hell whatever I bring won't end up poisoning her. If I arrive alive, that is.