Weekend That Was

[My last week at work starts today, and my replacement just called in with a family emergency. Do you remember what it's like to leave a job of your own volition? It seems like most of the people I know or read about these days find out they're leaving their jobs the same day they leave. It's the usual: everyone calling me "short-timer," etc. My boss had me write a job description, something I wouldn't have minded having at my disposal when I arrived, two years ago almost to the day.]

[The weekend that was: Rolling Stone article about the disenfranchisement of felons (addendum to Dean's point), Vanity Fair articles a. by Gore Vidal on Timothy McVeigh and b. by ? about Martha Stewart (and fighting with John about the latter); The Others on Saturday (Hollywood's recent penchant for twist endings didn't exactly ruin it, but you'll figure out what's up pretty early on); consoling our cute, straight neighbor over his broken heart, unemployment and imminent visa expiration (No, not consoling him THAT way. We wish...); walking around sunny Fillmore Street and Japantown yesterday with John, skimming the Nihonmachi street fair and ransacking the Sanrio store; Patrick is settling in nicely as our newest roommate, and goes on these bizarre housecleaning binges after disappearing for 48 hours; and wondering what I'm neglecting in preparation for the start of school in a couple of weeks.]

[And a bit of a headache this morning. Was there that much red wine during last night's shows? I guess there was. John says I was in a weird funk last night. I remember laughing heartily at Sex and the City and...oh, yeah, the dead baby ep of Six Feet Under. Yeah, that did make me saaaad (maudlin grimace). I went to bed immediately, and dreamt gory, X-Files-esque dreams of alien invasions and haunted houses.]

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