2004-08-27..12:42 p.m.

I�m so bored today. No one�s in the office, I�m sick of the internet. I�m not allowed to read anything remotely interesting, but have to pretend like I�m doing things with Office Related Material. I strangely feel like crying with frustration. Is it the boredom? Is it inexplicable frowny-facedness flying hazardously in the face of my Everything Going Smoothly reality? Is it the weird inability to get down last night lingering like a motley gremlin gnawing on my ears? (Seriously, what was that? Too much booze? Too much food? The Spank It, Baby attitude was there. The mind was willing, the body wasn�t giving, so to speak. I don�t think that has ever happened to me either -- certainly not so that I became evershrinking [Lewis Carroll is really on a roll this week] -- so I�ve been all crinkled and hunched and feeling about as sexy as a crispy remnant of the bubonic plauge trying to work out the why without putting any tears in my introspective fabric and getting no where.) I know M said he weren't bothered by it, but I am. Maybe the restless, slightly anxious, waiting for this all to be over so I can get on with it feeling is simply spilling over.