Or Maybe You Could've Been

[cyrano]

It finally started to rain this evening. Most people hate the rain, it seems. Especially in the Bay Area--it's like if they can pretend it never rains here, then it'll be constantly sunny and 80o like it is in Los Angeles. That's why they build crappy drainage systems, they're pretending they'll never need them.

Dinner was nice, if a bit crowded. But fondue always seems to be that way. There's always that element of jockeying for position and snarling for the choice bits, like proper animals. And I managed to burn myself rather smartly while trying to refuel the sterno. I think there was a hole or at least a very thin bit in the potholder. After dinner, I finished the raccoon story and put it up on my 'Infinite Number of Monkeys' page on the website. Web access is becoming amazingly easy these days. Tomorrow I find out if there's any word on the one job interview I've managed to wrangle so far. I'm going to feel mightily fucked if it comes to naught.

I was reading Dot's journal--found it while I was adding my dance stuff to my preferences--and have started having disturbing thoughts about Diet Coke. I blame her utterly.