An unsettled stomach kept me home today. I already feel a lot better and am happy to report that my Thanksgiving with Sarah and her parents won't be affected. I woked up and got ready for work as usual, but made the decision to use one of those hard-earned sick days of mine. I went back to bed (in my turtleneck, slimming black slacks, and chocolate brown trouser socks) and slept till noon.

I woke up in the mood to eat leftover chicken and to watch "When Harry Met Sally." I also tried to work on my vanity project (an unapologetically autobiographical short story), but felt no inspiration. After 10 minutes of staring at the last thing I wrote a week ago, I got up to empty the dishwasher.

I talked to Victoria last night. It seems that she's having a birthday gathering on Saturday and mentioned the possibility of me hitching a ride down to dc (with Gordon or someone) for the festivities. I feel hesitant about that for several reasons and at this point I am on the mindset that I won't attend.

Funny, I've been going on and on about not having plans. It seems that my exile is at least somewhat self-imposed.