Oh. So that's what fun feels like.

Really? How quickly I've forgotten.

Fun can come in packages, large and small. They can come in single servings, or in a trio (like a Tastykake Butterscotch Krimpet, for example).

Tonight I'm tired. Enveloped in three layers of clothing plus my comforter, my stack of books sit on the floor, unopened (and un-studied) since before I left town for the weekend. I'm tired. My eyes are bleary and I wonder where the day has gone.

I sit at my desk, drinking my Dunkin' Donuts brewed coffee. No, they're still not in L.A. But take a peek in your grocer's coffee aisle.

Did I tell you this already? Also, hello public transportation.

Getting stuck in conversations you can't get out of. Who knew, when you were a kid, that life would consist of more and more of that as you got older?

While connecting in ye olde PHL:
Guy relaying his grilled salmon recipe. The stuff that old people are made of. Sounds like Susie Homemaker's male equivalent, Gary Garrulous with peppy little fro. He explains his recipe, emphasizing that its just so simple, yet proceeds with the painfully long tirade. Gary loves it and now he's a genius.
Everyone thinks they're a genius with their ONE recipe that they know. Gray-haired looking Phyllis type looks on, nodding, if she's losing interest it doesn't show. Those standing by can't believe she's not bored. She goes, "sure, I know how to do that (part). Ok, ok."

Well, I did take the bus for the first time in Los Angeles in three and a half years. It was nice. No - no sketchy people on this ride at 6:53am in Burbank. Still shocked? Here's the blurry picture to prove it.

Back on the wagon. I'm tired infinity.

I drink too much coffee, I could sleep for 12 hours straight if I wanted to, and lately I've had a penchant for large cups of frozen yogurt laden with crunchy and gooey toppings. Self-serve, baby. I'm thinking about it right now. Maybe I should take that into consideration the next time my lease is up; mental note: must move into building within two blocks of a frozen yogurt joint.

Last night I had chicken tenders for the first time in what must be two years. With honey mustard. Let me rephrase. OMG, the honey freaking mustard. How absence makes the craving go NUTS.

So I'm back on the wagon this week. I'm tired and hungry and exhausted and my back hurts and I'm getting carpal tunnel in my left hand. This is really going to cut into my partying. Bummer. Make that both hands and wrists. It's official, I'm falling apart. I didn't think that I was being that lazy and inactive but, since the pants don't seem to fit, all's downhill from here I hear... Gaining a few pounds was so much easier to cover up in college - hoodie, yoga pants, done.

Looking for more peace and quiet more now than ever. I wonder how many different times in my life I have said that I'm tired. And how many more times I'll say it. I'm so tired - infinity. Yup. That should cover it. Now I need to go shop for a hoodie big enough to envelop Fatty McOffice Pants.

Chicken tenders are a gateway drug, kids.