I'd be embarrassed to tell what I had for breakfast. No one would believe it anyway.
Forgot to shave this morning. Hello, scruffy.
Nate learned yesterday that one of his assumptions about me and my history was incorrect. That scared him. Thing is, in joking about it, he hit on something else. If he knew that, he'd be more scared. He also joked about running, but I know him too well. He's in for the duration.
My track record for being disruptive, however, remains stellar. Go me.
Went to Red Mill for dinner, then to Taproot Theatre's production of The Last Night of Ballyhoo last night with Community Group. Fun. Learned that my seat was near a microphone which broadcast sound into the restrooms, so used it as an opportunity to make announcements to those using the facilities (wash thoroughly, conserve toilet paper, aim a little more to the left...things like that).
Skipped on the Tennis Pro show Wednesday when I learned Jennifer couldn't go. Good opportunity for margin, though I squandered much of it. She emphasized, unsolicited, that she really wanted to get together and do something, however (she was just tied up with a graphic design job), so I'm assuming this is the truth and initiating accordingly. Most women don't make sure the door stays open by accident, and occasionally even I am bright enough to pick up on this.
It's like I'm operating on two levels at the same time lately. This is one of them. Can't really explain the other.