Bright-Tailed and Bushy-Eyed

What an ungodly hour to be awake on a Sunday morning. I didn't get to bed until four. Did you know that Oilcan Harry's gets to be incredibly crowded? And that Magnolia Cafe after the bars close down isn't much better? And that, if you drive down South Congress at 2:45 a.m. in a decked-out Happy Fun Car, some drunk guy in a pickup truck might scream and moon you? Honestly, after Friday's happy hour, I'd already had my fill of crack.

I so totally meant to blog about that and forgot. It was heinous. There's not enough spackle in all the Home Depots in the world. No one we know: just some guy at the next table who apparently isn't averse to a bit of a draft.

Last night I had a dream about interviewing for the job I applied for on Friday. This is, of course, entirely Tony's fault. I dreamed that I was attending some high-level frou-frou meeting at a picnic table in the mud, but then the pilot arrived and the picnic table took off, and once we were airborne, one of the high-level frou-frou attendees began asking me interview questions.

Picnic tables are less than ideal, aerodynamically speaking. The flight never got very high, and was shaky and shuddery, and we kept narrowly missing trees. And of course our feet were sort of hanging out the bottom, so I felt a little vulnerable. It was hard to concentrate. But I think I did well!

We'll take the dream as a promising sign. Maybe I'll be picking up some new interview duds at Mall of America in a few weeks. Fingers are crossed!