Michael and I went out to dinner last night, simply because I was going crazy with cabin fever. There's not much to do up here, the couple of things i had been interested in, he wasn't and vice versa. So I declared that we were going to leave the house and do something, so we went to dinner. Our waitress had square glasses and emo hair, but the food was good and the wine nice.
I feel like I got nothing accomplished this weekend ... I didn't get my labs done, I didn't pick up my prescriptions, I didn't get dog food (Flea seems to prefer cat food anyway). I certainly didn't clean. I didn't even pack for Denver.
I dreamed I packed for denver. I even picked out what sunglasses to wear. does that count for anything?
