Now that I am in for the evening, and have no will to go out again, I remember the thing I was going to do before I did all the stuff I just finished doing:
Visit the car wash.
I haven't been to a car wash in maybe 10 years. I vacuumed out my little black hatchback before the weekend, cleaned out the ashtray, washed all the windows with Formula 409 (cuts smoke film better than Windex), stocked the change tray with dimes and nickels for my $.50-a-day Parkway habit, even got the dried spilt coffee out of the cup holder - but no one would guess how spiffy my wheelz is by the exterior.
What I did: replace my cheap, bad tweezers with cheap good ones, bought new sheets (the hand-me-down pink sheets didn't cut it for me, I kept dreaming about finding the perfect little black dress on sale), had a calzone and a root beer at Scotto's, threw away perfectly good money on a couple of state lottery tickets, laundered bedding and whites.
My assistant did not cry at work today, making it a better day, in that way, than Friday. It wasn't my fault. I told her, I may seem like a soft-spoken nice guy but if anyone gives her flak again, send their sorry ass my way and I'll take 'em to school. That seemed to make her feel better.