Hung over before I even started.

I spent the day, such a wonderful day, being extremely productive. I took Isabella and Peregrine to school. I didn't die depite the fact that the pilot lights for all four burners went out. I biked to school at a pleasant pace. I found useful ways to incorporate my professor's work into my paper. I had a good therapy session, which helped me be a little more honest with myself and a little bit less harshly judgmental of the same. I had real food for lunch, a salad and grilled protein providing substance. I got quite a bit of writing done on paper. I biked home. I picked the girl up. I bought mixed greens, apples and gorgonzola for a salad to take. I came home and chopped apples and yellow bell peppers and toasted walnuts, completing salad. I showered. We went to Marcelo and Rosa's house. I drank too much red wine, and laughed far too long. We ate tortas de camarón en mole de olla. Met really cool woman who is from DF and is in the choir with me, and her husband, also very cool, it was like being home, in one of the strange homes that I eternally lack.

So, why do I get hungover before I even go to bed. Is my organism that unable to withstand the toxins? I feel like an old lady. And my head hurts. And I hate waiting for everything to be back to normal. And I am sleeping alone again. Whine, wine, wind me up, but you need to do something with me or I'll explode. Ah well. Off to bed.

Still thinking about Toscana. I meant to recommend a book to him by a woman, about a woman librarian. I found it in the free pile at the Manchester Public Library last year when I was still allowed to read books in English (and I went a little overboard, I think) It was called "The Giant's House" or something to that effect. My memory is rotten, but the book was excellent and quirky and totally unexpected. I will have to get his email and write him. But I also want to know this: Do all men really not like to read women's writing? Are we really that boring and predictable? Or that pathetically wound up in relationships. It kind of makes me want to go back and throw out all of the ridiculous things I have written. But that would involve too much effort. More than I am willing to make and more than others would be willing to read too.

Aghh. Dry mouth is setting in, this is a bad sign, I better go to sleep, or hydrate myself, but not in that order.