Yesterday I bought thirty (30) bottles of Diet Coke.

To my credit, I have 28.5 bottles left.

There was a sale, okay? And they’re not 2L bottles, they’re only 710ml. I don’t have a problem. I’m not hurting anyone! Leave me alone!

My mother would be really proud of me – I read a flyer, bought something on sale, and am hording product in case the apocalypse comes and is thirsty. When the rest of the city shuts down completely due to the Olympics, I can sit in my condo and drink Diet Coke, pausing only to throw eggs and holey socks at people from my patio. What? It’s how I show spirit. Shut up.

Yesterday was a long but productive day. Early in the morning Ed and I picked up our fancy new bar stools for our kitchen counter, then fetched Miranda and the above-mentioned 30 bottles of Diet Coke. Shan and Heather came by Sparta soon after, and together we solved the Mystery of the Tiny Screw – the stools were surprisingly difficult to put together, mostly because we were missing the necessary shirtless priest in suspenders as shown in the manual. We ultimately triumphed over Scandinavian adversity, and now we can sit in style and hydraulics:

good for sittin'

After the stools, the ladies and I headed south to Bellingham. We all had various agendii to take care of, and I believe we were all successful: new bras, dresses of surprising cuteness, and a full stock-up on goodies from Trader Joe’s. We are ready for almost anything, and we will look fabulous at it. Also, Mi Mexico. It was a tiring and expensive Saturday, but good times abound and my new bras are fantastic – even the one Shan picked out for me.

Oh, and I got a SEX APRON.

It will provide comfort when the harshness of real life crashes in on me tomorrow at 7am.