04.12.02 - 1:29 p.m.

Read one line of a TWoP recap: "In Carrie's kitchen, the girls make themselves martinis," and now I have all these visions of living near my friends again. When we would get together and make ourselves drinks before going out, or not even make it out because we'd be having so much fun just by ourselves. I feel so alone now! Not bad alone, just nostalgic for the times of communal fun.

And if I had a city apartment, Carey would come over and we'd make drinks in my kitchen, leaning against the counters in our little swanky skirts and shoes, on our way to exciting locations and not even having to think about catching the Path home at 2 in the morning. This, of course, assumes that I somehow gain a disposable income with which to DO all these things. That's it. I'm at least dressing up more often. The weather is beautiful and I don't want to look like a slob.

Breakfast with Andrew this morning was good; he's broke and in love, much like me. Ten bucks got me breakfast AND lunch, due to my bird-like eating skills, or maybe due to the fact that my omelette was the size of my head. And filled with goat cheese, just like my head! OK, ew. Anyway. We talked about money woes and student loans and how he should just take the aviation mag position even if it isn't his dream job, and it was weird to be the one dispensing advice rather than receiving it.

Earlier was bad, with my first bout of insomnia in a long time and listening to the TV and the light rail for what seemed like eternity, flipping back and forth and the little mantras in my head helping not one bit to put me back to sleep, but now my mind is quiet quiet quiet. And I am going to sit here and do absolutely nothing and will the hours to move quickly.

Jack has been doing the same damn expense report since Tuesday, by the way.