May I Collapse Now?

[The week from hell is finally drawing to a close, I think, but it's left both John and me so physically depleted that we are now fighting our second colds of the season. I'm hoping neither is as severe as December's delights.]

[Tuesday: dinner w/John and parents, Italian deliciousness is right around the corner]

[Wednesday: Had lunch and saw Copenhagen with parents (Mariette's marvelous), drinks, dinner and show at friendly neighborhood cabaret with them and John. All delightful, if perhaps a little too wine-soaked by evening's end. My parents are animals.]

[Thursday. Should have been day of rest. Wasn't.]

[Friday. Doctor's appointment. (Doing fine, thanks.) John's company's holiday party. I can see the upscale end of Potrero Hill out my bedroom window as I type this; in preparation for the company wingding, we drove over to its other, less glamorous side, to pick up Yellow Cab vouchers to give to any employees who'd overindulged. Find a reason sometime to visit Yellow Cab's lot, Mississppi Street off Cesar Chavez, and you'll see where George Lucas got his inspiration for Watto's junk shop in The Phantom Menace. (Plus, seeing that side of Potrero, I finally got an idea of the atmosphere in which Eunice Simpson raised O.J. and the other kids.) The usual inanity and insanity of Costco, then to our neighborhood to make the party happen, then the party (and a long and acrimonious debate with one of John's coworkers about the SLA arrests) and back to our apt. for the after party.]

[Saturday: Well, we still had the rental car from all of yesterday's errands and for the night's trip to Sonoma for Grandma's 84th birthday dinner, so we took it into our heads to drive over to Berkeley. Berkeley's streets were not made for the multitudes of massive cars that clog its streets on a sunny day, and by the time we'd navigated the Eastshore Parking Lot, er, Freeway, parked in that crazy structure on Durant (remember Habitrails?), cruised a few record stores, even the contact high from the various paraphernalia tables lining Telegraph wasn't enough to make us want to stay longer. Zip to Sonoma, zap to dinner in Glen Ellen (and a long, not-so-acrimonious debate with my sister about the Whatever-It-Is-On-Terrorism), and zip back to the city before midnight.]

[Sunday: A calming breakfast at Polk Street Station (used to hate it, but it's getting harder and harder to find decent hash browns in San Francisco, and their omelettes have gotten better), followed by a not-so-calming afternoon trying to do laundry, finish a brief for today's Criminal Procedure class, and, finally, BART it out to the nomansland straddling San Leandro, Hayward, and Castro Valley for a "legally inspired" potluck dinner thrown by my law school buddy Terry. (Whoa, East 14th Street near the Bay Fair Mall is weird territory...actually, whole swathes of the East Bay reminded me yet again of parts of metro Los Angeles, in good and bad, bad ways.)]

[Today. All this has given John a stay-at-home cold, and I'm feeling none too perky myself. I think we're both looking forward to turning the ringer off the phone as we look over our shoulder at Patrick's sloooowwww moving out process. And lots of Peace and Quiet.]

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