I fly to Vegas tomorrow for a couple days and the trip has been planned for six months. I could have started packing weeks ago! At the very least, I could have done some laundry. Or pulled my suitcase out from under the bed.
Instead I have 12 hours until the cab comes to pick me up, and I have to spent 40 minutes of it running and 8 of it sleeping, and three of it doing work I didn't have a chance to finish last week. Which means no time for laundry or ironing or getting my suit pants hemmed. But I did find plenty of time this weekend to hang out at Asylum and sit on the curb and smoke and wander up and down 14th Street for five hours because the weather was so fucking gorgeous and download tons of new music and drink five rum and diet cokes, three 25-cent beers, two bottles of wine and five cups of coffee.
I hate being dehydrated, too.
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