Nov 19, 2004

I'm ashamed to admit it, but I've been lying for the past two and a half years. I always say that I can't sleep if Hubb isn't lying next to me, but I was totally wrong. Last night Hubb was gone and I slept like a baby. I slept for 8 hours straight, only waking once for a sip of water, and I haven't felt this refreshed in ages. It felt great, and I'm feeling slightly guilty and ashamed for admitting it. Not that it has made me miss him any less...I'm still thrilled that I'll have a warm body next to me again tonight. Other than the cats. They don't spoon so well.

I am also ashamed and upset to admit that I can't stop buying shoes. It is an addiction that I just can't seem to shake, and I fear that Hubb will stage in intervention once he gets back tonight to find that I am two pairs of shoes richer than I was when he left. But they were on sale! They were a great deal! They're so cute! I don't own other pairs like them! I'm totally busted, as I have run out of room in my shoe tree for my new footwear, and the new shoes have no home other than the middle of my closet. I think I need to start snorting coke to help me kick this shoe habit. It's getting really bad. But I have new pink ballet-style comfy work shoes and an adorable pair of rust colored moccasins. Hubb specifically said no more "pointy" shoes, so I didn't deviate from the ultimatum all that much...

I was thrilled to be asked by a coworker this week to help plan a dinner party, and as we visited the gourmet grocer today and my coworker asked me a million questions about the proposed menu and purchased every item I recommended, my day was totally made. My ego was being stroked every which way and I absolutely loved it. And as we walked away from the meat counter I was complimented on my new pink shoes. I nearly swooned into the olive oil display, which would have had terrible consequences had I knocked the gold-plated bottle of extra-virgin-holy-grail-fountain-of-youth olive oil onto the floor. I think they would have arrested me on the spot or cut my arm off to pay for it. Seriously, who needs a $200 bottle of olive oil? Not I. Despite my repeated coaxings, the coworker didn't think he needed it, either.

I'm obsessed with reading the lists on McSweeney's lately, and keep laughing out loud as everyone looks at my inquisitively or asks "What you laughing at?" all accusatorily like. My favorite: Pork and the High-Anxiety Alphabet.

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