It's Saturday. Do you know where your job is?

I HAVE THE ENTIRE WEEKEND OFF. This hasn't happened since... since... I don't know, June? Now if only it were 74 degrees outside instead of 3. Ah, well. Such is January. It's January, I just realized. Officially the worst month of the year. So cold and dark and boring and long. The month we all come crashing down from holiday happies. I'm already counting down to next Christmas. Or at least to a week from Monday, when I'm officially off the 11:15 a.m. to 8 p.m. shift and onto the 7:45 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. shift. I don't even remember what it's like to see 5 p.m. on a weeknight. Although, I'm kind of banking on this weekend lasting forever because I just don't want Monday to come again.

I'm going running this afternoon with someone I've never met, but I figure he's a fellow DailyMiler, so he won't leave me lifeless in a ditch somewhere around Lake Monona. And if he does: LOOK FOR ME ON THE ROADS AROUND LAKE MONONA. BECAUSE THAT'S WHERE I WILL BE. Good thing I've got my handy Road I.D., so at least my lifeless body will have a name. And  my parents' phone numbers.

I trust runners. Everyone I've met is just a great person, mostly. We're like this giant cult of cool people. So let's just cross our fingers and hope I didn't find the one ax murderer of the bunch.

I kid.


In other news, I just popped in the very first episode of Family Guy. I got seasons one through four on DVD for Christmas. I may never recover from this lapse of back-to-back-to-back-to-back episodes. I'm not even embarrassed of my unabashed love for Stewie. Not even a little.

What I am embarrassed of is the state of my existence today. My apartment is dusty, I can see it in the sunlight that's streaming through the windows. My bed is full of cat hair. I haven't showered. I'm not even wearing a bra. My Christmas tree is still up, not because I want to reminisce the joys of the magical holiday, but because I'm lazy. My kitchen is cluttered with junk entirely unrelated to kitchens.


I'm hoping a frosty 13-miler with jumpstart the day. Or at least get me out of my bed.

Tomorrow afternoon I'm heading to a local restaurant in my 'hood with madcity girl to feast on pork. Like, for real. It's a fundraiser with a bunch of local chefs who will be mastering the art of porcine. Mmmmm, pork.

It's the little things, people. Enjoy them.