My Heart is Already on the Weekend

I've got people to see, books to read, dogs to walk, Christmas cigars to buy, I can't get anything done today. I started a post on whether al Qaeda actually exists, which was well-researched* and would have been brilliant. I was going to tell you how hot my new bra is making me and I don't mean in the sexy way. I meant to mention that the Professor's Guinness beef stuff last night was fantastic and that we should all take a solemn vow to cook our roasts with Guinness, even if we don't have lovers buying us crock pots. But, y'all, I'm already thinking about settling in with a bottle of Bailey's under the afghan I made for the Professor, listening to the Sheik describe his latest adventures and why he doesn't think he needs to put doors on the Jeep, even in the winter. I'm already half way around the loop at the park with Mrs. Wigglebottom. I'm laying on the couch watching VH1 Soul. I'm sassing the orange cat. He's sassing me back. I am already fantasizing about my ordinary life away from work. But it's more than that. If I had a car, I'd ditch out of work right now. It's cold, it's sunny, there's a feeling of trouble to be made hanging in the air. I should be out corrupting cute boys, slow dancing with old men, drag racing bleached blondes, telling fortunes to sailors, talking upstanding citizens into gaudy tattoos, not eating lunch and playing Bejeweled. Today is a day for a little adventure and I'm sad I'm not having one. *Well, you know, in a bloggy kind of way. I didn't actually travel or talk to anyone.