January 5, 2002

If I were building a robot husband, I would definitely give it Jason's brains and know-how. Last time he was in town, Jason fixed all my lights and installed the spaceship IKEA fixtures I've had sitting around since the previous year. And yesterday, he fixed my dishwasher lickety-split. So handy! It was losing water like a sieve, very inconvenient, as I've been cooking up a storm. For a reward, I bought him some cuddly slippers to wear, since he was complaining about my cold floors and trying to jam his enormous feet feet into my girly slippers. Ever since Josh whats-his-name from Citysearch ruined my favorite platform shoes from Spain by similarly trying to stuff them with his oversized feet, I've had a strict no-men-wearing-my-shoes policy. That and I have a real hangup about people generally putting their feet in my shoes. I just don't think people keep their feet clean enough, even people I consider really very clean, much cleaner than me.

I've decided to jumpstart Things to Do in 2002 by critically rearranging it, augmenting it with additional subcategories, and obsessively reviewing it seven times a day. Somehow rereading it again and again doesn't get me any closer to checking things off, very annoying. Specifically, I've been very disappointed with how simply having the list does not reduce and lift my ass. I expected it to be firm and youthful by now. It's the fifth, for crying out loud.

Last night, I actually put on nice clothes and makeup and left my house for a purpose other than running errands, a real breakthrough. This time, however, I did not consume vast amounts of liquor, talk myself into a coma, stay out all night, and then wake up still drunk and irritated with myself.

Usually, I fitfully retaliate against my tendency to cloister myself by trying to cram weeks of entertainment into a single night. But not this time! This time I sipped a scant four beers, enjoyed the show (Tosca String Quartet--Jason wrote one of the pieces), chitchatted with the nice people that I'm always happy to see, watched Katy Vine dislocate her shoulder, then headed home, resisting the masochistic lure of swilling Maker's Mark with with a bunch of sullen kids at Emo's or jolly aging hipsters at Casino.

I've gone all moderate--just like a square should be! I'm nurturing my inner square. And, you know, my outer square. Now I'm off to spend the rest of my Saturday night studying my to-do list, doing laundry, and cleaning my bedroom. Hooray for me!

12.30.01