First, the weekend update, although my weekend was pretty uneventful. Friday we ate tilapia and watched I, Robot, which I didn't have much of a desire to see but I ended up really liking. Maybe low expectations are the key--it's not that different from any other Will Smith movie, but still fun to watch. Then Saturday I talked to Heather while Robbie went on a bike ride, and then we braved the snow to go out for fondue, only to discover a four-hour wait at the fondue place. I'm not used to having to get reservations for anything other than especially fancy restaurants around here, and I'm having a hard time adjusting, although I guess it's nice that it's all gentrifying and all.

Yesterday we worked out, and then I played with my Sims for a little bit, and then we watched "Arrested Development" and finished off the last of our sausage and pepper pasta sauce, which was a little mournful. We got the recipe out of Silver Palate, and although I find their cookbook writing style perfume-y and New York-y and generally unsettling, I have to concede that they have some mighty fine recipes. Then today I worked and cleaned, and played with my Sims for a little longer. Oh, and I took an excursion to Rite Aid to buy some incontinence gear for my great-aunts, which my mother had requested because it was on sale. I was expecting to be embarrassed by this, but I kind of wasn't. I think it helped that it seemed extremely implausible that I was buying them for myself, although maybe I was kidding myself there, especially since I was wearing my age-blurring winter hat.

Tomorrow: work. And laundry. And working out. It's not to be missed, folks.

Oh man. The less said about today, the better. I was expecting a boring day, but instead I was spat upon, cursed at, called a variety of uncomplimentary names, and nearly kicked in the nose. On the bright side, it does seem like Dottie's getting her strength back. And on my way back from the hospital I stopped and got some Taco Bell takeout to eat in the car, which was superlative, even though due to a mixture of overappetite and careful driving I ate some of my taco wrapper. (All of you who aren't Taco Bell fans will be gratified to hear that I didn't actually notice this until I saw that some of the wrapper was missing, with tooth marks.)

When I got home tonight I did some investigation into housing for Robbie's potential postdocs, which I make my obsessive role whenever we're getting ready to move. As usual, I passed through the range of human emotions, especially when I was looking for the jobs in New York. Actually, those may have been the stages of grief: anger (seriously, what chucklehead thought we could pay for an apartment on that salary?), bargaining (fine, we don't really need to have children), and acceptance (I will sleep in a closet, and it will be fine). (I know there are more stages of grief, but someone spat at me today, so I'm not really on my game.)

And now we're watching The Apprentice. Was anyone else creeped out when Carolyn was comforting the woman who left the motel? It reminded me of those times when someone got hit on the head in middle school gym class and the gym teacher would suddenly get all cooing and shoulder-patting and something about it would seem horribly weird and off. I don't like her, but I like her better mean.

And it's going to be an early night for me, I think. Maybe I'll go read my Empress Frederick book for a while and then go to sleep.

Feature story, feature story. That was my day. I finished editing two-thirds of it before I went to sleep yesterday (well, 14 out of 19 paragraphs, so a little better than two-thirds) but then spent most of today with two paragraphs left, procrastinating. I eventually got it done in time for the deadline and I think it turned out fine, but the holding pattern did little for my feeling of productivity.

After I turned it in, I took a nap--I haven't been feeling so hot--and went to the gym, which was torturous at the beginning, but, as always, got to be pretty fun once I got into it. After a few run-ins with some real weirdos (nothing even remotely threatening, just, well, weird) during daytime gym hours, I'd been going in the evenings with Robbie lately instead of during the day, but it was so empty there this afternoon that I think it might be time to reconsider this policy. I got the elliptical I wanted--the only one of the five ellipticals with no arm action, which is nonsensical considering that arm action/no arm action preference seems to divide the gymgoing population approximately in half--and slipped in and out of the locker room with a minimum of flesh tone. I did get stuck on the treadmill next to a talker, but I was just doing a cooldown there anyhow, so I didn't feel too bad leaving once my solace (actually, my rocking out--I'm sure this woman next to me was perfectly lovely, but wouldn't you, at a bare minimum, stop talking to someone after the first time she's taken off her headphones to listen to you?) was disrupted.

Then tonight Robbie and I went to pick up driveway salt and then to eat at Steak'n'Shake, because secretly we are senior citizens who live in Missouri. We even used coupons. And tomorrow I'm going to sit with Dottie during the day. She seems to be doing fine, which is to say that she's totally incoherent and sleeps all the time, but that's nothing out of the norm when she's nominally well. Nonetheless, the last I heard they thought she was a bit dehydrated still, so they're keeping her in the hospital for a while, and my mom wants to go to work, so to sit I go. I anticipate long periods of sleep, if not a full day of it, so I'm bringing my computer and my Empress Frederick book. I hear that the hospital cafeteria is having a special tomorrow on andouille sausage, so I think I'm in for a rocking good time.

First off, I should let you all know that Dottie's in the hospital and not doing so great. The flu is going around her nursing home and she's got some internal bleeding and is generally not well. Hopefully it will all work out for the best, but I wanted to let you know what was going on in case I drop off the radar for a few days.

Because of this, we were in the hospital for most of the afternoon, hanging out with Ethel and my mom (and Dottie, obviously, but she was sleeping the whole time) and eating an excellent tiramisu. We also discovered that for no charge, you can make this happen to one of your loved ones. I think that ordering a vigorous rendition of "Tomorrow" would be a great way to punk someone, myself. With a sufficiently vigorous rendition, actually, I think you could punk a whole ward. Another highlight was when Ethel was trying to get Dottie to wake up (which I don't think would have happened under any circumstances, but she wanted to try) and my mom pointed out that because Dottie's hearing aid wasn't in, Ethel would need to speak a lot louder if she wanted any chance of being heard. Ethel accidentally or, I like to think, willfully, misinterpreted "louder" as "lower," and intoned "Dottie, Dottie" in a sort of Isaac Hayes-type bass.

Then this evening I took a break from trying to wrap up this feature story and heard about Heather's second day of work. Before she started, she was trying to plan out, 80s-movie-style, how to become the most popular girl in Patent Academy (with my help, of course--I'm sort of the Texas Cheerleader Mom of Patent Academy), but she suffered a major setback today when her class split. Her half consists of her, a male law student who isn't even really going to be a patent examiner, and six women who are all chem-e. And I think we all know that the chances of her breaking into the chem-e clique are slim to none, although I am certainly hoping for a humorous end-of-Patent-Academy party at the richest, prettiest chem-e girl's house where Heather, via a series of zany pranks, exposes the hollowness of all that is chem-e and wins a kiss from the male law student who isn't even really going to be a patent examiner. Possibly involving someone singing "Tomorrow."

Hmmm. Well, today was the 24th, so I was set to be morose, but instead I woke up in a remarkably--maybe even startlingly--cheery mood that lasted the entire day. As many of you know, Heather started work today, and I decided that without her around to talk to during the day, a situation to which I'd become accustomed since October, I'd focus on my work with a new, sickeningly perky resolve, and it went pretty well. (Well, yeah, I still talked to Adam all day, but I'm not made of stone. Anyhow, he had lots of staff meetings.)

So, I researched and am now halfway through a draft of this feature story that's due Wednesday, and I cleaned, and I tried to sketch out a new quilt pattern (it went pretty badly, but I still had fun trying), and I read the latest Amish romance novel, which is the fourth in its series and resolved a lot of lingering questions (though, regrettably, not the mystery of why I'm completely hooked on poorly written evangelical Christian romances). Oh, and I worked out with the workout bands that Robbie bought last week. These things are fantastic. They're definitely not a substitute for regular weight machines in a lot of areas, but some of the exercises target areas that have been sorely underserved by my weight-machine use, which is great.

(You know, sometimes between the evangelical Christian romances and the targeting of specific muscle groups, I don't know myself either. It's not just you.)

And now, on to the weekend recap. Saturday, it snowed and we shoveled. Saturday night, it snowed. Sunday, we shoveled. That's pretty much it. Oh, and we watched the Steelers lose. I overcame my depression over that today, evidently, but I think I'm the only one in Pittsburgh who can say that.

I know it's not January 24 yet, but my goodness, was today ever a rotten day. Nothing extraordinarily horrid happened, but it was one of those death-by-a-thousand-cuts kind of days that by the end leave you totally unwilling to get off the sofa, check your email, or answer the phone because no good can come of any of it.

I admit that the day did start with success--my coffee plan worked, and we got to the gym this morning. I turned in a truly noninspiring performance on the elliptical, but I did stick it out, and that's something. Then I shoveled snow, got in an argument with Robbie, spilled wax all over the coffee table and carpet by not attending to a candle while arguing with Robbie, tried to cheer myself up by calling Matt Doty to wish him a very happy birthday and, with a cheerful heart and the best of intentions, may have ruined his birthday in the process, and then got in another argument with Robbie about ruining Matt Doty's birthday. I don't even think I won either argument. (I did use moisturizer, though, so the New Year's resolutions haven't gone totally out the window, and my skin is silky soft.) Other than that, I did nothing. I want to go to bed. I want to eat sushi and then go to bed.

Well, anyhow. Happy birthday to Matt. You are one of the finest people I know, and I hope I didn't really ruin your birthday. And now, for your edification, I will recount Matt's Birthdays I've Attended Or Not Attended Through The Years.

1. 1999. Construction-themed party, featuring real authentic UCSB orange netting. Who didn't know the word "bulldozer"? Was that Tizzed?
2. 2000. Adam and Brett were there and we went to Something's Fishy (heyyyyy, no wonder I want sushi). Brett secretly hailed the waiter and got him to do something, sing or chop meat or bring Matt a raw fish or something, and for the next month Heather kept talking about what a cool guy Brett was. (Justifiably, I might add.) We also had a keg party that weekend. Obviously, Adam and Brett drank water and certainly did not play Beirut. They most certainly didn't wipe the table with a long series of physicists at Beirut.
3. 2001. Uhhhhh. I don't remember anything. We must have done something, but I don't know what. Anyone remember? Oh, was that the fancy-dress cocktail party? Where Dr. (then, obviously, just Ms.) J posed for a series of depressed photographs to send to Big T in Germany? I think it may have been.
4. 2002. Potluck. With Hungry Hungry Hippos.
5. 2003. Sushi-making party. (Again with the sushi.) The Sushi Daddy apron was unveiled, and I ate way too much fish.
6. 2004. I was in Italy, and anyhow Matt was in Santa Barbara, so I had to observe it on my own, probably by eating way too much. (Actually, I think this was the day we were in Florence. So, definitely way too much.) I bought him this, which is very good and you should get it yourself.

And that is that. And now I'm going to look into the issue of dinner.

Well, I'm disenchanted with the snow. A detailed rereading of my blog has revealed that happened a lot earlier last year, so I guess I should be happy about that, but it's still January, so that can't be good. I just read online that according to skilled researchers, January 24 is the most depressing day of the year, so I guess we'll be over the hump soon. It's going to snow for the foreseeable future, though, and I'm not a bit happy about that.

Today I finished my feature story, shoveled snow, and did very little else. I meant to work on my quilt, but somehow it didn't happen. In other news, I blew off working out tonight. I've decided that tomorrow I'm going to get up and work out, rather than what usually happens, which is that I set the alarm, Robbie goes to work out, and I sleep for another hour and a half. I worked out an elaborate multi-pronged plan that involves grinding coffee tonight, so I'll give you a full report tomorrow.

Today started with a phone call from my landlord before seven this morning, saying that our downstairs neighbor (Pukey Neighbor's husband) had emailed him the night before to complain that the front steps were icy. I couldn't dispute this--the front steps were icy--and although I feel there's little I can do about it considering that snow keeps falling and melting and sloshing and refreezing no matter how coated in salt the steps are and the "nonslip" coating on the steps becomes treacherously slippery at the slightest moisture, I understand that his wife is possibly pregnant and he's a little edgy, so, you know, that's coo'. Calling at seven, though? Not even slightly coo'. The landlord called my home phone, which I did not answer, and then my cell phone, which, as I was beginning to suspect that someone was dead, I did. Seriously, the cell phone? Where did he think I was at seven in the morning? Out?

Felicitously, however, I'd been planning to get up early this morning anyhow, so I just stayed up, and the day went quite productively. I'm working on a feature story and for a few days, lured in part by the sweet siren song of wallpaper stripping, I'd been dragging my heels on getting anything accomplished for it, but I kinda got into it this evening and now it's going well--which is a lucky break, since it's due tomorrow. These feature stories always follow the same three-part format--an outline of the issue at hand, a background piece, and a perspective--and the perspective is always the hardest because I don't have the time or resources to do an actual interview unless I already know a good person to talk to, and that's rare. The traditional last resort for the perspective section is to do a collection of quotes about the issue, and I think this one is headed in that direction, but the other two parts are going pretty well.

So I did that, and I also completed a delightful round of domestic chores. I nearly lost it in the laundry room when I thought someone had stolen my bleach cup--I was still a little strung out from the phone call, I'm guessing--but then I found it on the utility shelf, so that was a serious crisis averted. And I cleaned. And I ordered Matt's birthday present. This is a banner week for birthdays: the lovely Blog and the City turns 28 tomorrow, and the equally lovely Matt turns 29 on Thursday. Apropos of birthdays, I learned today that Caligula was only 28 when he died, after living an undeniably full life, so I urge both of you to evaluate your personal progress in this light and, if necessary, become more sex-crazed and despotic.

Would you look at this? Adam told me to post and here I am, posting. I'm the best sister-in-law ever.

This weekend was good times all around, I must say. After talking to Dr. J about home improvements on Friday morning, I decided to go to my great-aunts' house and strip wallpaper rather than work, and then work rather than strip wallpaper today. It went pretty well, and I took some pictures, so I think a photo essay is in your future. Then I came home to meet Heather and Matt, who were here to see Megan (and us) for the weekend, and then Megan and Robbie got home from Pitt, and then Heather and Megan's college friend Jason AKA Chet came over, and we went out for pizza and then hit the Squirrel Cage, where we've taken such other notable guests as Tizzed and Adam, and we sat in the small, low-ceilinged, probably structurally unsound balcony, where all the smoke drifts over the course of the evening. I woke up on Saturday morning and my hair smelled revolting, and I'm afraid to pick up the sweater I was wearing from the corner where I dropped it after I got home (unfortunately, it was the lovely sweater that Robbie's parents got me for Christmas) because I'm pretty sure it's all smoky and unpleasant.

Then Saturday we got up and made waffles (to be honest, Matt made the waffles for the most part), and then we picked Megan up from her hotel and went to the South Side, where we met Chet, admired everyone in their Steelers regalia, and ate lunch at Primanti's. Then we did a little shopping, during which I picked up a Monopoly knockoff from 1982 called Welcome to Monroeville (Monroeville is a suburb of Pittsburgh and, from what I've seen, kind of a pit) and tried to talk Heather into buying a Texas Chainsaw Massacre lunchbox to take to her new job, and went to a photography gallery to look at an exhibit of Japanese photographs that was small, but pretty cool. Then we came home, watched the Steelers game, and went out for Thai food, and then Chet and Megan left, I went to bed, and everyone else watched Elf on On Demand. I woke up after that and Robbie and I looked over Welcome to Monroeville (in the end, we didn't actually play, just admired the low-rent Community Chest cards) and text-messaged Adam that we had shot a man in Reno just to watch him die, news to which he did not respond.

Sunday we woke up to discover that it had snowed overnight. I'd overslept--we were supposed to meet Megan for brunch at 10--and I didn't think I could shower and shovel snow in time, so you can imagine my delight to discover on getting out of the shower that Robbie and Heather were outside shoveling snow for me. They are undeniably two of the finest people I know. So we got to breakfast in plenty of time, despite some skidding on the roads, and then we said goodbye to Megan and went out to my parents' house, where I gave Heather and Matt a grand renovatory tour of my great-aunts' house and Heather brushed my mother's cat. Then we came back here, Heather and Matt left, and I rearranged the kitchen a little and shoveled some additional snow that had fallen.

And that brings us to today, when I haven't done a whole lot. I got some work done, went shopping for exercise bands and shoes with Robbie (we were successful on both counts), and went to the gym for a longer-than-normal workout, which was actually really nice. In weather this cold it's nearly impossible to get me outside to go to the gym, but I find that once I get there, I really, really don't want to be back in the cold again, so that works in my favor.

(Warning: in today's entry I tell a story that will make you itchy, and then I talk about mothmen. However, I do resist the urge to compare wallpaper to a sunburn.)

Today went pretty well, especially considering it started off this morning with a dream that I was being covered by rapidly multiplying insect eggs that were attaching to my skin and hair like suction cups. (You remember in Super Mario Brothers, after you jumped on a Buzzy Beetle, how it would turn into a black shell that rocketed back and forth? They looked like those--very chitinous-- and they came in pairs that were attached together by a sort of tubule. Man, it was disgusting. I would invite your interpretations, except I'm not sure I want to hear them.)

After an especially long shower to try to get the residual horror off, I went over to my mother's for the day. We started off by visiting my great-aunts, which was, as usual, pretty surreal, and then we had lunch, and then I discovered the joy that is wallpaper removal. I think I mentioned a while ago that I'm going to paint one of the bedrooms in my great-aunts' house, and the project is now getting under way. It got off to an inauspicious start today, though, when, as we were clearing the last few things from the bedroom (five pairs of velcro sneakers, a picture of Jesus in which he looks vaguely ticked off at having to pose with a lamb, and a haiku my mother wrote about rain in the tenth grade), we heard a rattling noise coming from the chimney. My mother thought it was a bird, but I figure it was probably a mothman. We taped the plywood that had been blocking off the chimney back up, but as I pointed out to my mother, if we learn one thing from Greek tragedy it's that you can't escape your fate with plywood and strapping tape, so I don't think we should kid ourselves that the mothman is going away.

Once I got down to the actual steaming, though, I was able to put the mothman out of my head, because that is a seriously addictive activity. I didn't even have the proper scraping tool, so I had to use my fingernails, and I can't even imagine how rocking it's going to be when I get the right tools and can actually scrape off large strips at once. I think if I could figure out a way to strip wallpaper while wearing hip waders, I would seriously never have to engage in another activity for the rest of my life. I mean, I know I could just wear hip waders now, but I'd feel a little silly unless I was in three feet of water, so I suppose I should just look for people who want to repaint their sinking, wallpapered houseboats. I bet that pays well, too.

And thank you for all the shoe analyses. Zappos does have them, but only at a slight discount (they have other colors for much cheaper, but don't mark down black so much), so I think I'm going to check out Littles and maybe one of the stores in DC that Rebecca mentioned. If I can't find them for cheaper there, then I'll probably order them from Zappos. I'll keep you all posted.

A word problem that I'm opening up for public discussion:

In 1992, I bought a pair of closed-toe suede-like ballet-slipperish black dress shoes at Parade of Shoes, paying approximately one-fourth of what I would consider today to be my top limit for dress shoe purchases. Since then, these have been the only closed-toe black dress shoes I have owned (I have some loafery things that look good with pants, but these are the only shoes I have that look OK with a skirt), and they're starting to look a little worse for wear. I just went online and found a pair of closed-toe ballet-slipperish black dress shoes from Mephisto, which cost approximately three times what I consider to be my top limit for dress shoe purchases. They look extremely comfortable and very pretty, much prettier than my current shoes. Would I be justified in buying them?

Points to consider:
1) I have owned my current black dress shoes for four-ninths of my life. Surely this sort of austerity justifies some kind of reward.
2) I do not wear heels, an issue that I'm not opening up for public discussion to any of you, and you know who you are. Therefore, these will functionally be my only dress shoes for at least nine months out of the year, and whenever it rains in the summer.
3) I need to wear dress shoes on only a handful of occasions a year. I do not forecast this situation changing in the near future, unless I start going to church again. (I may open that issue up for public discussion in the near future, but not now.)
4) They are really expensive.

Thoughts?

First off, mad props to Brett, who, from start to finish, got a job faster than it takes us to decide what to make for dinner. This new job comes as a keen blow to Heather, who was planning to invite him to daytime ballet classes in Dupont Circle with her, but I'm sure she'll soldier on.

So after powering through Da Vinci Code last night, I got nothing whatsoever done today. I got a new work assignment, which I'm going to start on tomorrow, and I surfed the web a lot, and I got paid. After Robbie got home, though, we went to the gym, and that was good fun. I upped the weight on several machines and so I'm pretty tired now, but I think the buffening that will result will be well worth it. And I was wearing my new attractive workout shirt, which always helps.

We were supposed to be hanging out with Megan tonight, who came all the way from Zurich to interview in our fine city, but unfortunately our fine city was coated with fog and so she's stranded in DC. This weekend should be a rip-roaring good time, though, because presumably Megan will have arrived by then, and Heather and Matt are coming up for a few days and staying on our futon and watching On Demand as much as four little eyes can (well, eight if they've taken their contacts out). I think the digital cable really sweetens the pot for our apartment as a tourist destination. Just yesterday Adam offered to come help us take care of it, as if it were a newborn child, although he was quick to clarify that he would not come to help in the case of an actual newborn child. Which is too bad, because I think that would make for one hilarious sitcom.

I wanted to blog tonight, but then at eight I started reading Da Vinci Code, which has passed my Amish romances as the worst book I can't put down. I'm on track to finish it in an hour and then resume my life, however, so expect to hear from me tomorrow.

A fine weekend this was, indeed. Friday we got digital cable installed, and I like the BBC/History International/many Discovery channels thing quite well, but far better than that is this On Demand. I was familiar with the general concept but thought it was all pay-per-view movies, but most of it is free, and there are a lot of shows I want to watch. I get a feeling that the cable company thinks they're putting one over on the general public by putting lots of shows on On Demand from loser channels like the History Channel, but I've clearly outsmarted them there. So we spent a happy Friday evening watching Monty Pythons Fliegender Zirkus (with subtitles, naturally).

Then yesterday we went to my parents' house for breakfast and a Christmas present exchange with my cousin and her family, where a good time was had by all, and then we went to a potluck dinner at the same house where we went to the party right before Christmas. (Which I just realized I didn't write about in here. It's the house of some people we met at the all-Ivy happy hour.) We made a walnut, goat cheese, and raspberry salad that was well-received, and everyone else's food was extremely tasty,

Today we made waffle sticks with our new waffle-stick maker, and then I did a pilates class on On Demand. I'd never tried pilates before and it was much harder than I expected, although I did like it. The video was only 17 minutes long but I still had to pause it twice to catch my breath and stretch. Right now I have a choice of five or six videos, so I definitely want to try all the different ones, and maybe give this one another go. After that, I mostly just worked. I was getting bored with the way I've been doing my scheduling, so this week I'm trying to get everything accomplished in big chunks rather than doing some work, some writing, some housework, and some miscellaneous every day, and I chunked today off as a workday. Tomorrow is cleaning, laundry, and work on the quilt day, which sounds quite pleasant to me right now, so we'll see how that goes.

I slept until 10 today--as it turns out, my plan to have Robbie wake me before he leaves only results in increased efficiency if he leaves at a semi-standard time. I haven't seen a single-digit morning hour since we left Heather and Matt's house. Robbie is planning to go to work really early tomorrow, though, work a full day, take a long bike ride, and be back in time to deal with the cable guy at four, so at least I can rest assured that someone else's day tomorrow will be as big an adventure in failed planning as mine.

After that, the day went like they do. I worked, worked out, worked on the quilt, and ate some uberloaf that is seriously roiling my stomach right now. You know how you can kind of tell what food is causing an upset stomach by thinking back on what you ate and feeling a wave of nausea when you consider a particular meal? That's me and the uberloaf right now. I think I may try some hot chocolate and see how that settles my stomach. I'm trying to finish this history of Canada that I've been reading, and that seems like a content-appropriate drink while I read, especially in these frigid winter months.

And finally, tomorrow our digital cable arrives. As I told Dr. J today, I'm fervently hoping that History Channel International has less of a 1944-in-real-time thing going than the regular History Channel does. (I realize that to say that reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of World War II, but who knows, maybe the international division has a different target audience or something.) I also understand, if Robbie's parents' cable is any guide, that we'll have several new Discovery Channels and also, of course, BBC America. Perhaps this will finally be reason enough to roust me out of bed...

I didn't wake up today until 10:30, and it's not like I went to bed all that late. I'm instituting a new policy that I have to be vertical before Robbie can leave in the morning, because apparently the 2005 me sleeps through the alarm. We'll see how this goes.

But given this massive starting handicap, today was a decently productive day. I worked a little for my mom, did the laundry, set up part of my business record-keeping system for 2005 (more needs to be done on that tomorrow, though), made what, if I do say so, was a delicious dinner of salmon and goat cheese risotto, worked on the quilt, and even, believe it or not, edited a page of my book. I've decided that, whether or not I actually pursue publishing any further (and I've been very ambivalent about that of late), I ought to just get this massive edit done, or I'll always have it hanging over my head. The pace with which I accomplish this remains to be determined, however.

Tomorrow promises more work for my mom, a preliminary look at our 2004 taxes, and a serious post-holiday cleaning. And with excitement like that on the horizon, I'm sure I'll be out of bed at the crack of dawn.

I'm wearing the new workout shirt Dr. J got me for Christmas (I wore it to the gym tonight and have neglected to change since I got back), and my goodness, but this is a fine-looking shirt. I might even consent to be photographed the day after a redeye flight in it. Maybe.

My first full day back home was pretty uneventful. We needed groceries and I decided that I was too lazy to drive to the good grocery store--a marked contrast from usual, when I'm too lazy to muster the energy to tackle our fairly unpleasant local store and its unfriendly cashiers--and so I walked to the local store and it went OK. That grocery store often has a host of not-actually-threatening-but-fairly-seedy people loitering around the entrance, and I've decided that the best way to cope with this is to engage in as little personal hygiene as possible myself before I go, so today I didn't shower or change out of my pajama top (although I did put a sweatshirt on top of it, since it was a mite chilly) and, thanks to a run-in with one of our trash cans, one leg of my pants was covered in mud, and in the end I had a very pleasant shopping experience. I was given a wide berth in all the aisles and moved quickly through the checkout, and next time I'm thinking that if I start muttering I might actually get some service at the fish counter.

And tomorrow I'm tackling what I estimate to be 50 pounds or so of laundry. I have less work than I expected this week, but my mom gave me some hours on a project of hers, so I'll be doing some of that tomorrow too. And I should really get started on my resolutions--those lyrics aren't going to memorize themselves, you know.

I'm back! I had a lovely time in Princeton and another one in DC, but I'm extremely tired right now, so I think this won't be an entry full of sparkling wit. Let's see. In Princeton we opened presents, went to New York to see a play called Democracy (it was about Willy Brandt, and really good), hung out with Anthony and Robbie's high school friends Stefan and Ada, and went to the Haven. I'm sure I'm forgetting a lot, but that's the short summary.

Then we went down to DC a day early so as not to miss a minute (well, we missed the first hour, but that was really the best we could do) of Dr. J and Big T's stay, and we had every bit as good a time as I expected. Brett's party was lots of fun, we did our fair share of sightseeing in DC on the Mall, Robbie, Matt, Big T, Dr. J, and I played an excellent game of doppelkopf, I persuaded Dr. J to stay up roughly five hours past her usual bedtime on Saturday to chat with me (and, I think, was this close to talking her into not going to bed at all), and best of all, the six of us watched every blessed episode of the first season of "Arrested Development." I can report with absolute certainty that this was not a huge mistake. We decided yesterday to stay in DC overnight because we didn't want to leave before Dr. J and Big T's flight, and it seemed like too much of a hassle to start the drive at dinnertime, so instead we went out for really good Vietnamese food with Heather, Matt, Adam, Brett, and Amy, and then left this morning.

And now, I will record for posterity my New Year's resolutions, in the order in which I resolved them:

1. Never be photographed the day after a redeye flight. For justification, I point you here and here.
2. Win more arguments with Robbie. (After a heated discussion, this was modified to "feel like I've won more arguments with Robbie." So I may be starting down by one.)
3. Use moisturizer every single day. I think it's time.
4. Memorize the lyrics to Jay-Z's "99 Problems." (I came up with this on the road today and it may be a flash in the pan, so don't hold me to this one.)

Finally, I have to say that every single present I got this year was outstanding. Maybe the blog helps people figure out what I might want, or maybe you're just all geniuses, but I have a really delightful pile of gifts right now. I strongly suspect I won't get around to putting them away until tomorrow at best, and so every time I narrowly avoid tripping over the stack on the way into our bedroom, I'm delighted all over again.