07.08.01 - 2:19 p.m.

I feel like I�ve lost a week of my life. Not that it hasn�t been fun and exciting, but ugh. I don�t think I�ve had one normal day since I moved, actually. Where�s my routine? Where�s my predictability? Not to mention that I threw off my sleep schedule so bad this morning by waking up at 6:30 and then sleeping again till 1�

Been watching Notting Hill and now am worried about whether I will ever find someone who, if I were in a wheelchair, would carry me lovingly up the stairs every night. This is what Hollywood is doing to me. This is what nights of too many romantic comedies are doing to me. This is what the Bridget Jones syndrome (starting with the book, NOT the movie, although v.g. in its own right) is doing to me.

Although there was a great line, which I can�t exactly remember because I was halfway to sleep when I heard it, but it involved a Chagall picture on Hugh Grant�s wall. Julia liked it because it made her think of what love would be like, and she said something to the effect of "Happiness isn�t happiness without a violin-playing goat." I wish I�d been more awake for that one. (Side note: this month, on my very own Chagall calendar, is a sketch for the ceiling of the Paris Opera House. Joy!)

I�ve also been regressing to childhood foods, even more so than usual, for some god knows why reason. Instance: at this very moment, I am munching on apples with peanut butter. At restaurants, I�ve been having compulsions to order chicken fingers, which are not my usual app of choice. If one has ever watched me methodically pick apart my chicken fingers for signs of veins and gooey parts and all the stuff that makes me NOT eat them, they would seriously question why I would be ordering them now. I bought freeze-dried ice cream at the science museum yesterday. I pick out grape juice to go with my lunches at the deli by the newsroom. I mean, I�ve always had a jones for grilled cheese and PB & J, but this is ridiculous.

I have a new media project due tomorrow at 1, and just realized I don�t have Lexis-Nexis here at home to do the research for it. Hum. Damn. I wonder how long it would take me to do tomorrow morning? If I woke up and went down around 9? I wonder how much I can possibly procrastinate before finally failing at something on account of it? I hate not being automatically connected to the network anymore. I suppose my weblog reviews are the very least I could do.

I wonder if I could write about Buffy?