Indigestion

We had pizza and ice cream & cake at Sara's birthday gathering. I went to bed very soon after she dropped me off at home, and I awoke at about 4 a.m. with a mean case of heartburn and visions of whacked out stuff in my head. She enjoyed all of her presents, and endured her mother's thinly-veiled barbs about her state of unemployment with more grace than I think I could have mustered had it been my birthday.

Still working through Wonder When You'll Miss Me, though my reading schedule has been interrupted for birthdays and trips to the cinema, and various and sundry other things, most of which have been pleasant reasons not to get lost in literature, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to time alone tonight to really make a connection with the pages. I read some on my lunch break today, which was pleasant, but I'm not much for reading out of doors. I like to be inside with music playing and dim lighting illuminating the egg-shell white of whatever page I'm on.

On the job front, I think my management skills are coming along. There are some very industrious, witty women in my charge, and they are turning out a good product, so the process of keeping track of them is virtually painless.

In other, trivial news, I have taken to wearing my red shoes without socks.