I’m operating at this special work, eat, work, nightmare, work– level. Okay, occasionally I watch fragmented episodes of Project Runway Canada on Youtube. It’s hosted by Iman who, instead of ominously announcing “as you know in fashion, one day you’re in, the next day you’re OUT,” throws up her hands and says “sometimes you just don’t measure up.” I never predicted Iman could seem so much like a yente. Really, Lazar Wolf would be proud. There’s also a really charmingly schlumpy Tim Gunn knock-off who looks like he would be a little more comfortable on Fawlty Towers. They all kindly offer each other help and make casual references to the celebrity phenomenon, Avril Lavigne.

I’m also accepting friend counsel toward organizing my alcohol collection into a more presentable array. SOMEHOW (Manhattans with Nora, J’s sweet drink habits, a plan to bourbon balls) I have about 25 different bottles. When I cleaned my apartment I discovered the sheer volume as I consolidated them on my windowsill from their spots in cupboards, counters, and the freezer.

“You could move them around the apartment so they’re more spread out,” Ken suggested.

“But then it would look like you were hiding them,” he realized.

Maybe I could give them decorative platforms throughout the apartment. Develop elaborate personas for each of them and then respect their domain. Then! it would be clear I wasn’t hiding them.

“I could crochet them all different outfits!” I told him.

He insisted we photographed our scrabble game in progress so that we could recreate it later and then strategized about how to write scrabble in java.

Some worried onlooker interrupted, “You know they already have Scrabble online!”

Oh, we know. But thanks.

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