I'm not really sure what goes on in my office when I'm home for the evening. It must be pretty exciting, though. My chair is always really staticky, and shocks me every single time I sit down or stand up or shift my weight. The janitors have rolly-chair races, maybe? And there was a footprint on my desk next to the keyboard this morning. I don't even know what that means.
On an unrelated note, why oh why did I order catfish? Really? Catfish, at a restaurant where I could have eaten a nice big salad, or a delicious steak, or even a hamburger? Who orders catfish, anyway? I've now realized my folly, and I see that the only way to eat catfish is when there is no menu to choose from.
I watched a movie tonight! And I started reading a book the night before! They both were (are) amazing! I'm glad to have taken the recommendation of both August Rush and Life of Pi. Although the part about the weak and starving guinea pigs was a little bit sad.
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The REALLY only way to eat catfish is in a park in Missouri where a creepy guy with a long beard deep-fries it over a barbecue in a modified 5-gallon tin full of beautiful hot melted lard. Hush puppies on the side, naturally.
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