I predict I do not come to work tomorrow, choosing, instead, to be stranded in the wilds of the IL farmland, where at least there aren�t so many trees to fall and do such grave damage to my wee silver car or my grand gold apartment.

I do not relish the idea of such a long weekend spent alone with the cat, so dig out those ice skates and come visit. I shall look at the oncoming ice storm with futile optimism�I shall prepare a large crock of vegetarian chili, in the event that this whole thing�s been blown out of proportion, and I can make it in to work for the Arizona Statehood Celebration and potluck. So if I�m stuck at home with the cat, it�s nothin� but chili for days. Please save me from such eternity.

If the storm is all it�s promised to be, I�ll miss the annual VD celebration at your friendly neighborhood bar, for which Tams has made stickers for all of us to wear, something along the signs of �Single and Proud� and �Will Spit at PDAs,� I�m told. She�s hardcore. I�m just in it for the good company. And beer.

Beer. Sigh. Poor Jeremy got the phone call last night, as I rang on my drive home from the bowling extravaganza. So much inconsequential crap pouring out of me�as if I�d been stockpiling all speech for weeks. He�s such a sport.

(Oooh, but I did get a lovely VD gift from myself in the post today�the latest McSweeney�s. The one edited by the incomparable Michael Chabon, which was ordered so long ago that it was a complete surprise. I guess I�m my own best Valentine.)

Sigh. And on the bright side, poor weather will prevent us from trekking a few hours north, simply for the delight of going to Sirloin Stockade (note that it is not �Sirloin and Alternate Vegetarian Meat Option Stockade). My mother, when phoning to announce her brilliant plan, informed me that I could just eat a baked potato and salad. Not sure she cares what the massively pregnant and swollen sister, who�s forbidden from eating anything that has undergone any sort of processing that involves the addition of salt, will eat. Much less that she�ll have to shuffle through the line behind every senior citizen in Knox County before she can get to a table to sit down. That�s hardly akin to resting and elevating her feet. Surely all would be better if we gathered at the old folks� house and brought a homemade meal.

Blah. That�s all. Dilemmas from yesterday aren�t resolved. The perfect place is not available. Once again, excitement for naught. I must stop taking crazy ideas to heart.

I�ve had more vivid, confusing, unsatisfying dreams. I feel weak, sleepy and lonely. I�m brimming with dissatisfaction. I don�t know if I have the energy to fight the lines at the grocery.

First I lift weights with Reb. Only after that am I allowed my coma.

Happy VD to you.