In which your intrepid heroine goes on a date!

Nice guy. Very nice guy. Very tall nice guy (6’4”). We met about 7:00 at the bookstore, then walked down the sidewalk and had Panda Express for dinner and told each other stories for two hours.

The day began well: I realized that my swimsuit is on life support, and I did a little online browsing, but the styles I liked at the price I liked, were temporarily out of stock. So I grabbed my gym bag and my planner, and off I went to Wally World, thinking I would get one of their $16 specials, which is plenty good enough since I will probably need a new size every two or three months anyway. And there it was on the rack: cherry red, halter neck, sarong hem, and $32.

Like the seagulls said: “Mine!” “Mine!” “Mine!” [I felt like Dorothy Lamour during my workout the past two days.]

Came home, fixed lunch, fixed my hair, put everything in the car, remembering to get my cell phone out of the front pocket of the gym bag. Got about *this* far from the entrance to the parking garage at work when I realized that I had forgotten to bring a pair of clogs to switch into once the driving was over.

Sneakers, even nice ones like mine, are not office-appropriate. I confessed my omission to the office manager and asked her if she wanted me to turn around and go home and get my shoes. At which point Attorney A remonstrated, because there was a tape-and-a-half of dictation that needed to go out yesterday. Office manager said I could go on my lunch hour. So I did.

I started typing at 8:30, took a couple of comfort breaks and worked pretty much straight through until 2:15, stopping to run downstairs and bring up a fresh bottle of Cherry Coke. I leaped in the car, drove home like a bat out of Houston, grabbed the margherita flatbread from Friday night’s dinner and nuked it, then ate it on the bat-out-of-Highland-Park return trip. Got into the office at 4:00, just in time to send out my mail and whip up all the paperwork for closing another case. I did the electronic absence thing, and the office manager came up to my desk and asked, “When did you take your lunch?” At 2:15. “If I’d known you were going to eat that late, I’d have told you to just forget about it.” All very well and good, but I had no way of knowing it was going to take me five+ hours to transcribe that report.

And you guys know me; I am the queen of coloring inside the lines.

When I started this post, it was 11:30 last night. I was not twitterpated; I was also not ready to to go sleep.

I fueled most of the day on Cherry Coke and Hot Tamales. With orange chicken for dinner. It is menus like this which probably gave rise to the belief in fire-breathing dragons.

Just sayin’.

Today went much more smoothly. I might have been able to catch my train, but I was in no mood to rush. So I tanked the car, and since I was wearing a dress, decided I would head to the temple after work.

Good decision. On the way home, I grabbed an ice cream cone, then decided to see where one of the roads dead-ended, because I knew it didn’t just run straight into the Trinity River. I found out. I also found a place where I could buy a used Porsche, another place that makes custom boots, an Army-Navy store, and a BBQ that looks promising.

I am not sure if I am more blessed, or more tired, but I promise you that I am a whole lot of both. It is hotter than the hinges of That Proverbial Place outside [and it’s only June]. I would like to put on my old swimsuit and dash over to the pool at the gym and literally chill out. But I need to sleep more than I need to be cool. So I am going to pour myself another glass of water, get my nest situated, and see if I can sleep through the night.