Not going into work until noon because I didn't leave until 11:30 last night. Sitting at home watching The Family Feud while the landlord and his construction croney (how is that word spelled singularly anyway?) fix the shower upstairs because it's been leaking and dripping onto our ceiling and discoloring the paint and plaster and making it all peel. Watched as they tore apart a 1-by-2-foot section of the ceiling in the hallway and ripped out all the asbestos insulation that was sprayed in there in like the 50s to find the problem.

Cough.

Hungry for lunch but it's only 10:30 and I want to make Annie's mac-n-cheese to eat right before going to work so I can refrain from succumbing to the lure of the snack machine. Planning the hour drive south to the folks' to have dinner at Val's Tavern with Mom and Dad, if he's back from moving the sister halfway across Massachusetts.

Have you ever noticed how at a wedding, there's always a pair of women -- usually friends of the bride, but sometimes of the groom -- who arrive together, sit together, probably share a hotel room together, maybe present the gifts (for a Catholic service) together, sit together at the reception, and then are always seen with a beer bottle in their hands either dancing together or standing at the edge of the dancefloor or dining room no doubt trying to figure out which drunk single friends of the groom (or bride) will be easiest (and most enjoyable) to fuck that night?

Pay attention next time; I'm sure they're there. One's probably in a black dress, the other in a more unique, colorful one.