The Banzai Chronicles

Perfect, perfect morning: gray, cool, with wet pavement from fresh rain. The thought of working for a couple of hours is quickly evaporating. This is a day for the cave, for blankets and good books, or boardgames and movies. Maybe a bit of housecleaning, too.

John is coming over tonight for some social/sci-fi time. I'm glad he initiated-- my moods go back and forth between looking forward to hanging with him and considering the time a pain in the butt (which is not about him at all). Objectively, I know it's good. I think I'll be more positive if I don't work, so that I don't have that "my day is all gone and my only private time is being eaten up by this social crap" feeling. That resentment is a killer. It's one of the reasons I cannot imagine having a roommate or being married.

Still haven't heard peep from Lori. Not surprised, but a bit disappointed. No number to call; perhaps I'll drop an e-mail just in case she checks it. Let me be faithful to my part of pursuing friendship; neither going overboard nor staying back and waiting for something to happen. I do both of the latter with an expertise borne of insecurity and cowardice.

My coffee cake is outlasting my coffee. This is one of the reasons I prefer the pan au chocolat. I just don't know where the accents go on that when I type it.

Lord, strike me dead before You let me wear a fanny pack. I have enough fanny, and wearing it around front is both contrary to definition and none better.