reading:
John Bowe (ed): Gig: Americans Talk About Their Jobs
Gail Simone: Birds of Prey
Sarah Vowell: Take the Cannoli
Howard Zinn: People's History of the U.S.
Damn it! I've been home for three hours now and unless we're willing to call "watching last week's Veronica Mars and Lost" a productive activity then I am just sunk. I mean, I did do some knitting while watching these shows. That's ten inches of scarf that didn't use to exist. But now the time has come for me to be a useful human being and I am just done.
But I'm tired. Tired tired tired. Ran around all day today -- picked up new books for reading, dropped off timecards for temping, bought yarn from Michaels and a baked potato at Wendy's. Picnicked at Griffith Park (as the Michaels was in Burbank, close by) while reading a book, and then spent the rest of the afternoon, unexpectedly, en route to Claremont, in Claremont, and leaving Claremont. (A friend lacked transportation and had real need of it; I had no other plans beyond either catching Walk the Line at the Los Feliz 3 or working on an essay that I've been avoiding for weeks. Was a fun time. Delicious Indian food!)
I forget how driving and traffic just wipe me out mentally. It also doesn't help that the only caffeine I've had today was a large diet Coke. A poor substitute for the real thing.
I really want to go to bed. But that's the coward's way out. And I am not a coward. Today, at least.