i came this close to calling an escort service last nite. i figured it'd give both of us a well-deserved break: this way we could both get a decent night's sleep. but i chucked the plan and braved the dark aloneness alone. those of you wagering on my perserverence and independence over my over-active imagination will be gratified to know i made it through alive. unfortunately, as expected, i didn't sleep much or well, and i felt crummy enough this morning to justify a call to karen and a delay, if not a cancellation, of our workday today.
to make me feel better, and because tomorrow's my birthday, and because a check from dk for $150 serendipitously arrived yesterday, i popped into Politics and Prose and bought the poetry speaks book i've been lusting after for half a year. i choked up just looking at it on the table.
pursuant to a conversation i had with miss lana before she left, and because i stumbled across it yesterday, i retook the kiersey temperment sorter. for the first time it called me a "SP" rather than an "FP" -- suddenly i'm an artisan instead of an idealist. maybe i'll take it again just to see. like everyone else, i'm a sucker for insightful proclamations from the voices in the sky.