To make the least of it.

I have the day off today.

I slept. And slept. And slept. Then I called some people on the phone and told them, among other things, not to see M. Night Shyamalan's "The Village," because I saw it last night with Poli Sci Guy and we agreed that it's bad. Then I slept some more.

I don't know what I'm going to do with my night.

I have an invitation to crash Vic's blind date in Buford. (She said it was a group thing, so I could just show up in the restaurant, have myself a margarita and "run into her.") Or I could see her after the date, unless the date goes well.

I could go see the remake of "The Manchurian Candidate." Of course, I'm supposed to see a movie with Ron this week ... and I'm not going to see "The Village" again. Awful, I tell you.

Maybe I'll go see "The Bourne Supremacy," since I'm the only person left I know who hasn't seen it.

Or I could watch a DVD and read more Thackeray.

I've not left my apartment yet. I always think the day's wasted if I don't.

But, gosh, um. It's just not happening.

I miss Kacoon, actually. I haven't seen her in, like, a million years or something.

Earlier this week, Ron was praising the blog to me, saying that it read like a really good collection of work.

I hope he doesn't advocate including this one in the retrospective collection.