Okay, I admit it. I forgot today was Wednesday.
Here's the thing: I went to breakfast with some friends this morning, and I never go to breakfast on Wednesdays. It totally threw me off.
I feel like that one lady in Emma- Miss Bates - when she gets a letter from Jane Fairfax on a Thursday, and she can't stop talking about it because Jane usually writes on a Tuesday, and today is Thursday, but yet she got a letter, even though it's Tuesday, and can you believe it?
I guess I'm a creature of habit. So, here are two things I'm working on:
1. Anyone in the Big Apple?
I'm leaving for New York City on Saturday, and I have nothing to wear. Not in the way that normal people have "nothing to wear", where they're skimming through clothes in their closet and thinking how old everything is.
I literally have nothing to wear. I went pantsless today, and it's wasn't pretty. And I'd hate to go naked in New York. I've heard the city is very progressive, but that might be pushing the envelope a little too far.
Emily Wing Smith is giving a reading of her book, with a bunch of other authors on June 1st, somewhere in NYC, so if you're in the area and you want to meet up, you can come! I have no details yet, but I do know it's June 1st. I'll have deets on Friday.
2. Ohmyheck, I already forgot what number 2 was.
Seriously! I remembered at the top of the post, but now, nothing. What is my problem? Answer me!!!
I went to breakfast. Did I mention how that threw my day off?
I don't know. So, I'll go to my go-to subject when I'm at a loss. My undercover lover. And by "undercover" I mean "In my dreams" and by "lover" I mean I watch him on the telly a lot.
Yes, Rafa Nadal is number one, and he's playing in the French Open for the next couple of weeks. On ESPN 2 if you're interested. I have a lot of new followers lately, and now might be the time to warn you all that a third of my posts usually have something to do with Rafa.
Or his arms.
Or his left ab, second from the top.
|... and the hip dents.|
But I only talk about him during the ATP tennis tour, which is only 11.5 months out of the year.
Another third of my posts are about how much I love my agent, Michael Bourret.
The final third is about my love of Diet Coke. Why does anyone read this blog? I suck.
Where was I? Oh great. Now I'm totally lost. Did I talk about my breakfast this morning?
Maybe I should trash this post and start fresh on Friday.
Trash or Publish, Publish or Trash, Trash or-