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Monday, August 27, 2007


I hate to even admit this, because the second I do there's a strong chance that something stressful will happen, but I am weirdly relaxed, following a weirdly relaxed weekend. Now, often my weekends are chill, as in uneventful, but this one wasn't just chill, it was relaxing. I wish I knew why exactly. Sadly, I think it might be connected to the strange sense of satisfaction derived last week as I conducted my semitriannual (does that mean something that happens every three years by any chance? Cuz that's what I'm trying to say) office cleaning.
Whatever. Friday night, the boy and I met up with Gabe & Julie for a little pre-opera tailgate and then saw a little Mozart, which was long, but lovely. Saturday, I threw myself, literally, into Darius' pool over and over again (it was way too hot). Darius was out of town, but there were lots of screaming children to keep me company. Strangely, I did not mind the children, because I had nothing else to do and actually read the entire New Yorker. It was the bomb.
Sunday I cleaned my own house, and worked out, and went back to the pool AND got a massage. Yep, it pretty much rocked. Oh, and somewhere in all that, the boy and I grilled food (again, he grilled it, I just ate it) and had a few unimpressive games of pinball and air hockey (why can't I find the Cowgirl's Web site?).
And it's Monday, almost noon, and I don't feel like pulling my hair out yet.
Maybe it was the massage.