Oh, dear readers. I am a big ball of stress. I cry at night. I can't sleep. I am boring at parties because all I can talk about is the source of my stress, and yet it is the type of stress I cannot talk about here. Not yet, anyway. Someone might see. But it's awful. My poor health of late is a direct result of this stress. If I hadn't been so stressed it probably wouldn't have happened. Rrgh.

Not that you were thinking this, but just in case I want to reassure you: it has nothing to do with Tim.

Anyway.

I managed to come down from my stress around about Saturday of my four-day weekend last week. Not that Thursday and Friday were bad at all, it's just that I was still thrumming from weekday stress underneath everything I did. Thursday, Tim and I discovered The West Wing Marathon and gorged ourselves on 9 episodes in a row. I'm not even that into politics, but at one point I cried because I wanted an administration like that in my real-life White House and I can't have it right now.

I should note that I'm crying easier than usual these days, and I was a crier to begin with.

Friday we went up to Charles Brown's house for good food and great company. Kelly Link and Gavin Grant were surprise guests, which definitely skewed the guest list towards the young turk end of the age spectrum (me, Tim, kest, Kelly & Gavin were the young turks, though I'm not sure Kelly qualifies any more what with the New Yorker begging her for a story). It was lovely to get to sit and chat with them outside a con setting; Tim and I stayed later than I realized, sitting around the end of the table with Kelly, Gavin and Charles and sampling Charles' incredibly yummy single malt scotch despite my tummy. The title of this journal entry comes from something Gavin said while describing one of the beverages we were sipping. I love me a good Scottish accent.

Saturday . . . um, I don't remember much of the day on Saturday, but that evening Tim bowed out of a dinner/ party but encouraged me to go by myself. So I did. I had dinner with Jed, Susan Lee, Susan Yi, Zed and his girlfriend Jennifer (who has the best laugh) before the party. We somehow got on the topic of panty hose vs. stockings and tried to come up with a theory why anyone would give up stockings (comfy AND sexy) for pantyhose (binding and UGLY) (my theory is that when pantyhose came out, they were a nice alternative to girdles (control tops, etc) and therefore more comfy at the time than a stocking/ girdle combo). We had nice conversations about other things as well, of course, but that's the one that sticks in my mind. Go figure.

The party was at Avi and Rom's and was a chocolate/ wine tasting birthday party for Rom. I'm afraid I didn't make too much of an effort to meet new people, but did manage to chat quite a bit with Susan Groppi and Jed, both of whom I don't see enough of despite their proximity. Beware of bringing up the origins of words around those two, though. I'm just sayin'.

As always, I could've stayed longer and talked with more people. I especially wanted to talk more with Avi and Rom, our gracious hosts. Ah well. I came home to the loving arms of a bop who had goofed off most of the night while I was gone.

Sunday was date day. We went to see The Station Agent, which was much better than I was expecting (and I expected it to be good). We bought books, presents, cat food. We strolled under gun metal grey skies. I turned my face up when it started to rain and let it cool my face while Tim pulled up his hood, looking like an elf. We bought the first season of The West Wing and watched some of it we'd missed during the marathon. I did some Pilates from a book I'd bought earlier in the day. It was a good day.

This week has been so bad I can't begin to go into it. Other than dinner with Susan (Groppi) on Monday, lunch with Greta yesterday and general Tim time (and kitten comic relief) I've been angry and worried and stressed. I need to learn how to let go of things that bother me during the day, but I try and they just don't go away. Even stretching before bed doesn't relax me enough to fall asleep. I'm out of NyQuil. I just can't spend 8 hours cringing and being fussed/ yelled at and then let it go for the 5 or so I'm not in that situation, you know? I try. I really do.