Officially this was the first day of my vacation. I was at work all day, so I don’t know if you can consider it a vacation day; but I had that peculiar sort of flick it attitude that one gets the day before one leaves for a vacation. It was about the best day at work I’ve had in months. When I got home I spent an inordinate amount of time reading blogs and drinking beer and not packing. See, I hate to fly. No, I mean I really hate to fly. I don’t actually mind the whole airborne thing. It’s just that whenever there is any turbulence I am scared to death that the pilot is getting as drunk as I am and has the same vague notion of how to fly a plane that I do. Whatever. So I was avoiding getting all my stuff packed and drinking so that, hopefully, I would be too tired on the plane to be worried and just get to sleep all the way to Hollywood. Oof. Bad idea. I managed to get done and in bed by 2:30 am on Thursday so at least I would be really tired as I fell from the sky to a fiery death.
