The second version of the second draft of Sadie Valentino's story, which is now called "Every Song was Punk," is paper-clipped and on my desk. There was a major rewrite and then Michelle went through the draft and proofread it because, frankly, I miss things everytime. I have this habit of skipping words. Then Christian and I realized we'd been talking about CanLit and gender theory for close to three hours, so I decided to print out the story and go to bed and he decided to go to bed because for some completely irrational reason he's getting up at 7:30 to go sailing or somesuch. I will sleep in until 10 and then call Michael about brunch -- brunch! -- with people like Michelle and Daniel. It's been so very long since I have felt the touch of Brunch's soft-sweet-pastry hands upon my sunnyside-up cheeks.
Tomorrow stalks me with Today's mask over its own face.