12.03.04 - 11:33 p.m.

I feel in a decidedly non-holiday mood. I came home from work yesterday and started bawling hysterically, probably induced by a Molotov cocktail of many recent happenings:

a long week at work, with coworkers who brag about the fact that they routinely stay at work until 10 o'clock at night, people who take more time to give you instructions on how to do something so simple that they could have just done it themselves, and people who then ask you questions about doing something so simple that YOU could have just done it for them, leading up to (FINALLY) the press preview and show opening

wedding-related stress, including the fact that I don't see why anyone thinks planning one is any fun at all and all there are are extra fucking deadlines and tons of money spent on crap you're only going to need for ONE IDIOTIC DAY and it's not even stuff you really like or would spend money on in the first place

weird residual grief from the Florida Weekend showing itself at strange times such as when the mean lady at the Port Authority snapped at me when I asked to refund my ten-trip of tickets, which it is HER JOB to do and then when the super-nice manager comes over to explain how I can get my refund by mail, I tell him that I only couldn't use them because I had to go to A FUNERAL and the tears start a-flowing again

not sleeping because the Jerry Springer show on the other side of the bedroom wall has started up for the fourth time this week

plus I never got my act together to find a recipe for Bake-Off, which doesn't matter now because I'm already stressing myself out more over whether or not I should even attempt to see the Vera Wang sale even though I don't want a fugly white dress and I don't want to get up at the ass-crack of dawn and wait for three hours in line even though I'm totally going to anyway.

I want to cry even more now that I've written all this down. My poor stomach. Who needs a drink?