Mental Health Day

Last night I went out for drinks with grad-school-folk, hence the Snippet which appears to be causing some confusion. Allow me to clarify:

Slater is gay.

The "or my bed" was directed to B.

The "oh my god, we have to get out of here..." was his reaction when he realized what he'd just said.

So in summation: we all got a bit drunk, and Slater is the one who ends up hitting on B. Not me.

Classic.

I've got to say, however, that I love getting drunk with other theatre people. Nowhere else could you have a completely serious conversation stemming from the prompt "Okay, so if you had your pick, which of Shakespeare's characters would you fuck?"

(Mercutio or Richard III, in case you're wondering)

At any rate, by the time the last four standing left the bar (Slater took off almost immediately after the "or my bed" incident) it was late and I didn't feel like dealing with the subway so I treated myself to a taxi and hoorah! I actually got a cab driver who knew how to find my neighborhood in Brooklyn! It's a freakin' miracle...

I went to bed having made the decision that if I was hungover when I woke up, I would simply call in sick.


I woke up feeling just fine...

... and called in sick anyway.


Sometimes life just works like that.


So I went back to bed for four more blissful hours. I did my taxes and thanks to the Lifetime Learning Credit I get for being in school (and paying for it myself) I am getting a BIG. FAT. REFUND. As in, I could potentially completely pay off one credit card and half of another with this refund.

Instead I'm going to pay off half of each and put the rest towards actually traveling somewhere on my Spring Break. Any suggestions?

I also baked up a storm. At DS's suggestion I started with chocolate chip cookies, but never being one for moderation I decided that it had been far too long since I last made Cinnamon Raisin Swirl Bread.

Oh, did I not mention that I'm a domestic goddess? Right. 'Cause I am.

However, I am also an idiot and was halfway through the process with the dough rolled out on the counter preparing for the "swirl" bit... when I looked in the cupboard and discovered that the extra jar of cinnamon that I could have sworn was in there apparently doesn't exist.

So I went back to the grocery store, and wouldn't it just figure that the time I go to the store in track pants and a ratty fleece, no bra, unwashed hair, and glasses, I actually encounter a cute guy!

He did smile at me however. Perhaps his eyesight's not so good.

Huh? Where was I? Oh, right...



I should have invited Grocery Store Boy over for breakfast.