Sunday morning. Well, afternoon really. But when you wake up late, you get to experience that artificial morning, which is what I’m doing now. I didn’t shower or shave or anything yesterday, so now that I’m all cleaned up this morning, I feel like exactly one zillion dollars. I’ve got my boots on, and I’m wearing that feeling of anticipation that something great might happen today.

But my plans are very meager.

At whatever time I become hungry, I will be phoning in an order for meatball parm at Danny’s Pizzeria on the corner of Montrose and Bushwick. I will also use that time out of the house to procure some ice tea (or fruit punch), probably accompanied by some Doritos, and a little something to “nosh” on later.

After that, I will return in triumph to my loft, whereupon I shall devour above-mentioned food, and most likely commence several hours of data-entry for work. Which will be mind-numbing at best. I’ll also try to simultaneously rip as many CD’s as possible to my computer, in preparation for selling them all at a later date.

It’s great that even though I have a really miserably disappointing day planned out, for the most part, that I still have this great feeling of excitement and anticipation about the possibilities and circumstances in which I might find myself.