13 August 2002

It was weird, but yesterday felt more like a weekend than my weekend did.

Not while I was at work, of course, but afterward. I went home and finished the story I'd spent half the weekend struggling with.

And then I picked up the week's comics and started reading. About halfway through, it was time for dinner, so I heated up some leftovers for Matt, and tried to turn some other leftovers into a quesadilla for me. (I burned it. Oops.)

And then I looked at the clock and there was still an hour and a half before the Hall, so I finished reading the comics. I finished Sparks with almost half an hour to spare.

The Hall was really slow - I think just about everyone had at least one other task happening on the side. By the time we quit (early, at 9:30) we'd devolved into ignoring the Hall itself in favor of looking at Ross' prom pictures and making silly comments about his friends.

I finally went to bed around 11:30.

I don't know why, but last night felt like it moved at a slow and stately pace. Plenty of time to do everything I wanted to do, to talk to everyone I wanted to talk to, to read what I wanted to read.

How I could get that feeling out of seven hours' worth of evening, when I couldn't get it out of two days' worth of weekend, I have no idea.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go fight with this printer some more. (I can get it to feed labels correctly, or I can get it to detect the RFID tags. Not both. I know why, but the solution is eluding me. At least it'll give me something to talk about at the interminable weekly staff meeting...)

--Liz