Oh, God, I am sooooo tired! This has been an incredibly long and busy day. I left the house an hour early to truck out to Emeryville and meet with a fellow General Service person (AA thing, sort of a representative body) whose service position I am taking over. I drove Miss Jane joyously from point A to point B with Shirley Bassey blaring out of the open windows while I enjoyed a nonfat latte. Then I went to work and labored my poor little fingers to the bone, having my priorities rearranged for me three or four times in the course of the day... formatting flyers, writing information to our webpage, sending out emails, answering the emails that came pouring in responding to the first email, paying the bills, stamping envelopes for my General Service thing, schlepping things across the street to the college and back, editing an eight-page Q-and-A statement, answering the phones, sending and receiving faxes, and trying to breathe every once in a while. Come 4:30 and time to go home, I find myself enmired one more time in my recently most-constant activity, Hunting Incredibly Important Papers. I spent two hours hunting for this one document, with JB helping me, turning over and scrutinizing every scrap of paper in my office (and that's a lot), but never did find the thing. I found a lot of other things I've been looking for, but not the Incredibly Important Paper I sought. I have calls out to the two other people who might have copies, to see if I can bum a fax off them. Then I got another phone call from the person who was A-ing the Q-and-A statement, and so I got to spend another thirty or so minutes with my Ex Boss Lady editing the eight pages some more. Along about 7-ish, JB and I headed out to Piedmont Avenue for dinner at Barney's, then off to Long's so JB could look for some Eucerin hand soap but instead end up buying such necessities as Luna bars, live orchids, and a pair of Groucho glasses (don't ask, you don't want to know). And so I get home at 10 pm and get into a conversation with Grandmother for a while, and get a call from the guy whose boyfriend may buy Miss Marjorie for his sister to drive (if he can fix it). And now I'm doing the whole email and blogging thing, venting my day on you, my beloved reader. Thanks for listening.