[But Abraham Lincoln was the great emancipator]

On Friday night we bought a new throw-rug for the living room. We'd been eyeing this one specific brown shag for a while and it went on sale so we snatched it up. Here's the thing with fresh shag though, apparently it sheds, a lot, even after you give it a few vacuums. Party on Saturday night = brown fuzzies everywhere.

The party was a success, I think. I baked two apple pies, fluffy white cupcakes with pink cream cheese frosting, samosas, savory chicken crescents, and pinwheel sandwiches. We have all (martha, tyler, me) done very little drinking in the last several months. Especially me. I don't know why but there you go: I was trashed by 9pm and in bed by 11.30, because you see- I am WILD. Three beers and two cocktails. Apparently I also forgot how to pace myself. And how to eat. I was stressed about everything coming together and the house being ready and people were showing up all day earlier and I didn't know why. I took two crying breaks while cooking. And each time Tyler would see and follow me into the bedroom and lie next to me and kiss my cheek and tell me things were okay. I'd breathe carefully a lot and then go back to getting everything ready. I forgot to eat or drink anything. while drunk I was extra in love with everyone and everything. I probably would have made out with everyone just so they would have understood how much I loved them. Thank goodness everyone else seemed to be less drunk, except tyler, who did put his tongue down my throat but that's good stuff.

I was so sick all yesterday, and have called in sick to work today. I am not as sick today but happen to feel a million times too depressed to do anything. So I'm not going to. And I may call in all week. Maybe I should just quit and be melancholy in bed for a few months. I can think of very little better right now. Or at least indulgent. I am too depressed to do a thing and at this point I'd rather give in than blindly fight. We'll see. It is all heaviness and I am sick of writing about it. or thinking about it. Or feeling it, for that matter.

I bought a gym membership a month ago and have only gone once. Clearly I think wasting money is a lot of fun. Also, that everything there is too triggering for me. I want to take pointe again. Oh, I'm just going on now....