There's nothing like junk food...

...every once in a while. Last night I had three different types of crisps with two types of cream cheese, and half a bottle of red wine. It was glorious -- all those lovely synthetic flavours, and the salt, and the yumminess. The cheese crisps tasted great but smelled of vomit, but then one can't have it all I suppose.

Whether due to the junk food or to the day's exertions -- quarterly report and a very intense 1,5 hr workout at the gym -- I must have fallen asleep around 8 or 8.30, right in the middle of an episode of Dead Like Me. Hauled my sorry old carcass to the bathroom and then to bed around 11 p.m. and of course woke up at 4.30 today. Since I actually got 8 hrs of sleep, I'm not tired, though. Tonight I'll be going out anyway (farewell dinner for Dan the Society Slave, who's returning to Austria where he'll take up a teaching job at university), and so the sleeping pattern will probably return to normal.

Nothing else to report, except that the weatherforecast is favourable, i.e. fantastic early-autumn weather till at least Saturday. We only had a severe thunderstorm here during the night from Sunday to Monday, which cleared the air and lowered the temperature by some 5°, and yesterday was overcast and a bit on the cool side, but now it's back to glorious, blue-golden September. I have a suspicion that this year's wine will be exceptionally good. Apart from that certainly very positive fact, I'll also be able to climb the Vodno together with Klaus, and that makes me even happier than thoughts of this year's vintage.

That hysterical laughter you're hearing -- it's Fate again

Lunch today with D. from [...]
Me: So, what are you guys going to do after moving your offices to [...]? This restaurant has practically become your second living room.
D, glumly: No idea. The only good thing I can say about the new premises is that they're closer to home. Oh, and to [...] tennis club, which is good for the boss. (i.e. Mr H)
Me: Yep, he plays a lot, doesn't he?
D: Yes, and we're all so happy about that, I think we'd even pay for his lessons. So he gets rid of all that surplus energy which means he doesn't invent work for us to do.
Me, lightly: He ought to get a girlfrind, that would take care of all that energy and be even more time-consuming than tennis.
D: Tell me something I don't know. I beg every single woman I know, in fact I'm begging you, do something!!
Me: I might be a tad too old, you see. If I had a younger sister...
D: Whatever.
Me: Well, I have an older brother...
D: Erm...
Me: So you don't think he's gay, do you?
D: Well no. No, definitely not.

*headdesk*
He's really single. 46 (or 47, but what does it matter), gorgeous, clever, fun and SINGLE!!! The mind boggles...