I got about 4 hours of sleep last night, which apparently to new mothers and grandmothers and everyone at work, is plenty of rest for "a girl of [my] age". Why do I feel like I have been run over by a truck??
I think that my inner Golden Girl is trying to escape... tonight my plan is to eat a slice of cheesecake, reminisce about Saint Olaf and tell stories that begin "Picture this, Sicily 1923". Then maybe finish my Star Wars embroidery and update the ol' website.
Sidenote : the guy off my FT page was on Conan O'Brien recently. WTF-tard?!
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