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I went to work today, even though I was still sick, out of a sense of obligation, coupled with massive denial and the burning desire to leave the office early on Friday. It was pretty horrible. I really shouldn't have gone, but some things are done, and now that I'm out of the office, I'm feeling surprisingly healthy. I got my laundry out of the dryer (where it's been sitting for two days), and I'm sloooowly working my way up to packing for this weekend. I'm waiting for my baby sister to call me and tell me what the weather is supposed to be like in DC so that I'll know what to pack (long sleeved tarty shirts or short sleeved tarty shirts - I am really looking forward to this trip). I could look it up, but making my sister call me is more fun. If the weather sounds sufficiently promising, I might even shave my legs.

Before I leave, I also have to do something with the plants that White Flower Farm finally shipped me (can't plant them this weekend), and do something fun with R. We're thinking of going to see a movie, but checking Fandango almost always makes me want to scream. Today's horror is a monstrosity entitled "The Prince and Me", starring Julia Stiles. I want to call Stiles' agent and scream at her for signing the girl up for this kind of shit, but then, I also want to go see it. Usually, the teenagers tell me about this stuff, so I have advance warning, but they've been too busy drooling over Johnny Depp lately to notice anyone female, and I've been neglecting them.
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ricevermicelli

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