It’s official. I’m getting old. I used to look at my (more mature) friends that said this, laugh, and beg them to go out with me anyway. Now I understand. There comes a point in time when going out is not nearly as much fun as going home and going to bed. I hit that point. TONIGHT. Sitting at Sherlock’s in Addison, YAWNING (heavens, no), I could think of no entertaining questions to ask my companions, not enlightening tidbits of useless information to share, no trivial, off hand, amusing comments to spark interest. I was no doubt, the dullest, most lifeless form to ever have walked into Sherlock’s. Jen insists they understood. If they do, they get more points for understanding than I did when once in their shoes. I didn’t understand my old (sorry guys) friends when they said they were getting tired. And this is exactly how tired we both were–no Taco Bell on the way home. So I’m about to crash on Jen’s couch. I had a relatively fruitful day, spent in the most darling shoes you’ve ever seen that left a blister that I swear will be a crater on my foot once it pops. I had dinner with The Boy Who Adores Me and currently am in a missing him state of mind. Jen thinks this is sort of an annoying trend, since my affection for him varies on a day to day basis. Nevertheless, I miss him at the moment, and for this I am glad. Ciao for now.

Oh wow. What a day. Up at 7 to get the oil changed on my car, and JUST got to work. Of course, there are a million emails and to-dos…C’est la vie. Last night I had a good ole time. Hung out in Bricktown with a bunch of cool folks. (Folks–since when did I start using words like FOLKS???). Anyway, it was awesome. Great music, great people, great atmostphere. It’s my new favorite happy hour joint. My friend Mike’s girlfriend, Jamie, was trying to get me to 2-step. Which brings up a funny story. I don’t 2-step for one reason. I’m afraid to try. Keep in mind that I have 6 left feet and am a klutz to begin with. Pair this commodity with the timidity of an insecure college freshman at Tumbleweed and the dorkiest guy there asking me to dance. And he couldn’t dance. It was awful. Everyone was staring, I was branded for life, never to try to 2-step again. Even though I really, really want to. It looks like sooooo much fun. I’m just waiting for the right guy to come along and teach me… So I’ve got to get back to this day. I’m leaving (was supposed to already have left) for Dallas for my friend Jen’s birthday… I love the big D. So many people, shopping, fast-paced, and The Boy Who Adores Me is there, too…

So I’ve got to learn to keep normal, people-oriented hours. This middle of the night stuff doesn’t work on the schedule I’m keeping that supposed to earn me the income to build a house (since I can’t seem to find one I like well enough to buy). CMT is on in the background and Johnny Cash is playing. Talk about talent. Maturity has taught me that his words could move. Obviously. I had something I wanted to say, something about boys and thank goodness for blogger–since the boys are all together worthless, aside from occasionally being nice to look at. Remind me sometime, and we can talk about the lead singer from Rascal Flatts, and the Boy Who Adores Me, and the collection of those that chose to ignore me… But for now words escape me, this means I’m tired, goodnight, I’m off to bed.