Anybody want to hear how miserable I am? I didn't think so. I'm never eating or drinking again, ever. Well, until tomorrow, when Suzanne is taking me out to lunch, and Wednesday, when Mom and I are going to lunch at the Palace Hotel in San Francisco. But after that, nothing. I've learned my lesson. Again.
Against all odds, today was not a pathetic waste. I got my work done, and I even managed to put another big project to bed. Meaning, I guess, that the Boss told me I'd done a good job, and I got it off my desk so I could move on to some other busywork. But hey. That's something, for a Monday that started too early and went on too long.
I didn't get any yard work done, but it was more a result of the wind whipping through grasses and torturing my nose and throat than any lingering effects of the weekend's overindulgence or messing around with the clocks. I can't afford to let this go for more than a day or two, or else all my hard work will be undone. Weeds have a way of coming back bigger and bolder, unless you either keep hacking away at them or get to the source and root them out. I'm in the middle of doing a little of both, and it's not exactly pretty. Not yet, anyway.
In a startling turn of events, I did get a haircut this morning. That's more of an accomplishment that it seems, considering everything working against me. I won't know until tomorrow whether it's a good haircut or not, but I have to admit it has potential. I have my doubts, though.
This wouldn't be the first time I was let down by a promising glance at a mirror just after getting clipped. Many's the time I've been forsaken, within less than twenty-four hours of a haircut that I thought would change my life. (For the better, in case you were wondering.)