Pity, Party of One

When's my damn table going to be ready? I want to get this party started.

Yeah, I'm feeling darn sorry for myself today. I'm not feeling well. Again. Sore throat. A little congested. And that "hot face" feeling---like I'm standing out in bright sunlight at midday except that I'm inside. Nothing deadly. But definitely crummy. Generally just feel like I want to lay down. I also feel like stringing random thoughts together for this post.

Poor me.

I'm supposed to go to a forum on workers' rights tonight, and I feel like a total loser for not going, but I really just want to go home and burrow for the night.

And because I know you are dying to know: This weekend, I wound up reading part of Intuitive Eating and part of Goodnight Nobody, which I'm not starting to like anymore than when I began. In fact, I'm starting to like it less because it is just one cliche strung after another. I feel like I'm watching a time-warped Tuesday night television line up of Dharma & Greg, Gilmore Girls, and Desperate Housewives sprinkled with a little Murder, She Wrote.

I did a very good job of being a grown-up, except for buying a new outfit for yoga, which I probably didn't need. I also probably didn't need two more books, but at least I bought them at the half-price store: Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood and The Odyssey by Homer (trans. by Richard Lattimore).

And I started on the second panel (of five) for the afghan. Too early to tell whether it will be any good. The assembly looks a little tricky.