Curtis needs a break. For my sake.

Isn't that a horrible thing to say? But he's been working really, really late, and even if I routinely stayed up as late as he did, I wouldn't be awake when he got home from work, because of the three-hour time difference. So we don't get to talk much, and it makes me sad.

But on the other hand, in a week and a half I'll be there, and he's actually going to take time off, and we'll get to talk face to face, which is immeasurably better than talking on the phone. So I suppose I shouldn't complain.

They carded me at the bar last night. That never happens. The waitress was really, really nice about it, though, and I didn't mind drinking Diet Pepsi, except that it was kinda flat and kinda syrupy and almost tasted like regular, which was disturbing. Emily had Guinness and Julie had Smirnoff Ice. And then we came home and watched L.A. Confidential, which I'd seen before but hardly remembered at all. Wow. That is a really good movie.

I'm sleepy. I don't know what I'm doing up hours before I need to be. Maybe I'll go back to bed.