Oh fucking fuckity fucksticks. Yes, I was up at (what is now) 5:40. I decided to sleep in the back bedroom for a bit, which is quieter, then woke up some time later (yay for "get up" cueing light coming in the window), fumbled around for too long, found the clock which said 8 AM!!! and bounded out of bed. I fed the cat, then saw the clock on the stove said, well, let's just say a good half hour before I need to get up. Dammit. I did try going back to bed but I'm basically screwed - I'll be spending this whole day dragging my carcass around, wishing like hell I'd got even eight hours of sleep. This is admittedly partially my fault for being up at 11:30 at night instead of already being in bed, but something about getting home around 10:30 makes it a bit hard for me to wind back down.
Argh. At least I'll be able to enjoy a decent cup of tea at work today, since wechsler has given me his travel tea pot. He also brought by an electric mixer, which was very handy when I was making banana bread yesterday. Now I am fully baking-enabled.
Tonight: Persepolis, thanks to the kindness of julietk. We have a late-arriving schedule readjustment on Thursday, when the lovely folks we had over for tacos go out with us for some sizzling Mexican food. shadowdaddy may bet to meet some folks from PunchDrunk, too, which would be pretty cool, y'know? It was the night we'd had scheduled for Poppea, but bad Baroque opera is a badness of, what .... Baroque proportions ... to be avoided at all costs.
And the sun just broke through and suddenly it's gorgeous outside. Wow. Must bring camera with me.