December 30, 2003

11:27 p.m.

Fast Away

A highlight of last night's party, which I forgot to mention, was my friend Joan and I inhaling helium from the party balloons and singing, in very small voices, along with Jonatha Brooke on CD.

Jeez, everybody is sick. Is sick, was sick, is getting sick. I'm afraid to go out. It's Viral Armageddon out there. I'm trying to send myself good thoughts, protective light, positive healing vibes. If we all stayed indoors for two weeks and stopped infecting each other, would it all go away?

Good rehearsal today, though I didn't get there til 1:00. We mainly worked on two new songs that are taking a long time to arrange, and did a little business. Our new run of CDs has a color anomaly (something we didn't order, in other words) on the CD printing, so we're seeing if they'll knock some money off the bill, or whether it's preferable just to have them redo the order. We're running out, though, so we'd have to keep a box anyway. I hope we sell a boatload at First Night.

It is so windy outside right now, there's a lot of noise around the building. Today was balmy and springlike, and now it's winter cold again. I wonder what the rodents do. All prepared to hibernate, and throwing their blankets off because it's unseasonably warm... getting the munchies in their nests, looking for that February stash...

Incidentally, I did not buy shoes yesterday. There was no time to even think about it. Today, however, I purchased a pair of pants on sale, two bras likewise, and two discounted holiday-motif candles. The store was fairly deserted but the rubble of post-Christmas sale was everywhere.

Fast away the old year passes. Its ending this time seems momentous somehow, in a way last year's wasn't. I don't know why. I'm in a lot better place, that's for sure, and the future seems a little more mapped out, at least for the next five years. Surely this is the first year I've felt like an adult, or felt comfortable being one. Funny how different adulthood seemed twenty years ago; I couldn't have imagined now, then. Nor did I need to, I guess, which is the point -- why would I try to imagine my old age now? (Hey, why not try imagining a retirement plan, Bornearly? How about a little mutual fund? Huh? Put that Mensa mind to work.)

Suddenly I'm too tired to make rational decisions about this entry. I shall cruise, schooner-like, toward the bed. Sleep well.