So after work today, I’m in the grocery store, minding my own business, headed for the checkout with a basket full of stuff. A guy walks by me — I didn’t even get a look at him, except a vague impression that he was about my height — and says, “Pretty hair.” I automatically replied, “Thanks!” but resisted the urge to slow down, turn and gape. Which is why I didn’t get a better look at him.

I should have turned and looked anyway. And if he was cute, flirted. Damn, I am out of practice.

In other news, the upcoming Sunday is my department’s mandatory quarterly meeting. The one they schedule 12 months in advance so you can’t avoid it by requesting a vacation day, and for which missing will ding you to the equivalent of 2 separate absences. Oh yeah, not to mention it’s the one they have at SEVEN FUCKING A.M. on my day off. Claire asked me what sort of things are discussed at the meeting, to merit it being a mandatory weekend work meeting at SEVEN FUCKING A.M. The sad truth, as I told her vehemently is, “Not a fucking THING.” But them’s the breaks.

(Claire is kick-ass wonderful, btw. She’s the best next-door neighbor I could ask for, a really terrific friend, and one of the best moms I’ve ever met. Not to mention her entirely underrated talent for making people feel welcomed and included, which is something I largely suck at. She wrote a totally sweet blog post about me on the 12th, and I have been so absent from the Infobahn that I didn’t even see it until today.)

Last weekend, Anxiety went to the coast with the Red-Headed Stepchild’s family, and so Geoffrey & I had a childfree house for 3 whole days! (Yes, of course we had sex in the living room. *GRIN*) We topped off the weekend with a bit of a splurge at Powell’s, which is almost always the best thing you can do with your clothes on. I got a new Spider Robinson book AND a new Laurell K Hamilton book! YAY!!!

Now I’m going to go hang out with my 6-days-shy-of-1-year-old godson.