05.28.03 - 3:39 p.m.

So. It has been raining forever. I am only able to wear my new sunglasses on the drive to work and then they go back in my bag, banished until the Twelfth of Never.

I had an almost full-on panic attack yesterday morning. Too much to deal with at work. Over nothing that really matters in the grand scheme of things. The editor I hate more than all the others will be editing my stories from now on. No matter what job I have, I will have issues with it. That's a given.

If my boss shrieks again I will smack her upside the head with a FedEx carton.

We were able to play three rounds of mini-golf this weekend. I got scores of 45 on the par 40 pirate course (both times) and a 51 on the crappy course. Quite an improvement. Even a hole-in-one. And I did have to be sociable to 14 other people for three days, but it wasn't as bad as I feared. Though I do enjoy my grumpy alone time.

And Bassett, I love you dearly but your Sim self hates my Sim self. Why? I may have to resort to creating a new Sim to be your boyfriend. I will name him Sam Rockwell or Ewan McGregor or even Adrien Brody if you prefer. Just say the word. And then I can marry you two off and you won't skulk around the house being all meh and glaring at me.

I bought us a guitar. We are both awful at it and I greatly dislike your attempts to play it. But you are a rock star in my version of life, so learn it you must. Maybe I should take you off the business career track and put you on the musician one. After I recover from the financial blow of adding an extra room to the house, that is.

Sim life. How excruciatingly boring.