cannot fill the gap

Three quarters of an inch, I think, that the tile at MoMA sunk under the weight of the Serra. I think. I'm a terrible judge of size. Helps some, hurts others.

At two-ish today I received a text that read "Where R U? Want to meet for a drink?" The answer was, "Yes, see you in 20."

Isn't that the perfect Thursday two o'colock in the afternoon request.

Especially on the first official day of winter break and just a few hours after receiving an effing painful cortisone shot in one's knee. (It made me sweat, that shot.)

Gin gimlet, up. Regular Bombay, on the sour side.

Next, a dry white from Alsace (by Boxler, 2006).

I remember someone chewing me out for calling a wine from Alsace "Alsatian,"--what was I, talking about, a dog?

Anyway, I came straight home from the bar at six-thirty and now I am taking a forever break from a boring movie (The Hottest State--I'm on a [really disappointing] Ethan Hawke thing).

Although it is nice to see whats-his-name: Mark Webber. Especially after the mostly hysterical Q and A at Sundance last year for Stephen Berra's movie.

I just did a self search on this bloggy of The Good Life, but the results sucked, because the searches on Blog-City do. Instead of the movie, the search came up with this.

Back to my domestic concerns, a woman is coming tomorrow to help me clean my house and instead of dusting I may ask her to help me move furniture. I have this idea that the fireplace should not have a free standing bar in front of it (covering up the hole), but rather a couch facing it.

A fireplace ablaze in the winter, How Romantic.

Eff. Where is my handsome handy man to help me move furniture? A question that plagues me. I have the visual.

Nine a.m. is so far from now, the hour Rosa arrives. I may rally, in the meantime.

It's true, there are wardrobe challenges. 

I have to wear...---flats---... For a while.

The thing is, how can a five foot nine woman (like myself) have pants that are too long for her and thus must wear (really gorgeous, sexy, fantastic) heels to take up the height.

The dresses and skirts are just right, but still. A leg is so much nicer (more nice) in a heel.

I totally have to go shopping for short people clothing.

I'm rambling.

If I enjoyed speaking on the phone I'd call you right now. (And, you know, if I had your number. Memorized.)

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