Holding pattern.

I was up til 1am last night, and the extra half-hour of sleep I allowed myself didn’t quite cut it. So while I had a good evening, today, as expected, I pay for it. I want to curl up and drink good coffee out of my Tinkerbell mug while shaking my head over Augusten Burroughs‘ life and sneaking peaks at the snow falling outside.

I have a lot of work to do this week – all testing, unusually – and as “luck” would have it, two of my time-wasting partners in crime are away, so productivity has been forced upon me. Don’t you hate that?

Wayne Gretzky’s mom, Phyllis, died last night. She was 64, the same age as my Dad.

My shoulders hurt.

I like being able to wander around the Vintages section of the LCBO with a noticeably greater understanding now.

Tomorrow is the official beginning of winter.

I wonder how many times I have typed “coim” in trying to type “.com”?

I could use a hug. Mmm… hug.