Sudden Shower

What does it mean, I wonder, that I was so convinced that today was Friday that I actually told a client I'd stop by his office "early next week," when what I meant was "tomorrow or Wednesday"?

It's not that I didn't have a good weekend. I had a really quite swell weekend, in which the forecast changed from "blank grey horizon" to "it's raining men" in the blink of an eye.

Again, I am going to refrain from giving my usual obsessive (or obscene) level of detail because - well, it's private, and this forum ain't - but let's just say there was one point at which I found myself in a crowd of 50 or so men, about half of whom were cute, a quarter of whom were eyeing me in friendly fashion, and one of whom had his arms around me. Sigh. I think I want to live in that bar.

Then I came home to emails from three new guys, and I have a date tomorrow with a fourth who actually comes recommended by a friend. I am looking forward to that. He is really nice on the phone, and has a deep (translation: sexy) voice.

Everybody sing it with me: "It's raining men! Hallelujah, it's raining men!"

The feline princess, of course, is less than pleased with the situation, and is being fussy and demanding and clawing me right on my tattoo (long-ago healed, but I really don't want any claw-mark scars on it, thankyouverymuch). She's also refusing to pose for photos. So that blur up there was the best I could do. Pretty crappy, eh?

But I haven't got a finished knitted object to show you, and I have been very lax about toting cameras with me the last few months, so 'twill have to do. Must remedy that soon. After the date(s). And all that rain. ("Every time it rains, it rains pennies from heaven.")