Running On Empty

I'll apologize ahead of time, for this shall have to be short and sweet.

Not unlike moi.

Only I'm not short.

It's late....and I'm tired....and there's still so much left to do.

And I'm almost out of Cloudy. This is a catastrophe of monumental proportions...and absolutely positively will not do. So, either Margarete's sending me the "top-secret-now-I'll-have-to-kill-you" recipe for KABOOMs (in which case, I'll probably be doing more digging, singing and dancing than packing anyway) or I've gotta find my way to Ira's lickey-split.

I can tolerate a LOT, people....but this is just TOO MUCH.

I'm only human, after all.....

So, here I sit....ready to drain the last of my wine glass...and the only thought my muddled brain can process is "Will Clinton Kelly (my internal IV and best bud on all thoughts relevant to whatever obscure thought I'm having at that precise moment, especially ((but not limited to)) fashion, decor or anything at all, really...) follow me to my new digs? And speaking of fashion...seriously, whatever really became of that chicken shirt? I'm probably the only one who honestly cares, so hopefully he'll let me know soon.

Then I can move onto other important issues....like, when does the new season of Eli Stone begin?...and will I have to switch to Comcast in my new digs (say it ain't so...puleeze!!!)...and I wonder how long it would take someone to find me if I tripped and fell down the stairs tomorrow morning whilst carrying my breadmaker to the car? How long would I have to go missing before someone would notice?

I mean...someone would notice...right??

I'll keep you posted....I'm fading.....