She works hard for the money

Man, I am on an efficiency streak this week. I actually feel like I can handle the upcoming surge in workload over the next six weeks. Of course, talk to me in three weeks about what I just said and I'll probably give you the finger (hell, I'd give some of you the finger just for shits and giggles, no matter what you said).

I'm off to C-town this weekend to see KO. We almost took a trip to D.C., but plane tickets were well above the "oh crap" price threshold for both of us. Gas ain't cheap, but it won't cost $700 to drive and see her. Should be fun. At least more fun than spending the weekend talking to my cats in a perpetual state of needing a shower. Sometimes, I think living alone is cool because I can let myself go and no one sees or cares. And then I realize this is also the dark side of living alone. Do it long enough and you don't realize that you've let it creep outside the home. Sure, one trip to the grocery store with no bra and PJ pants isn't a big deal. Then it's the mall; maybe you start looking a little shabby at work. Before you know it, you just look like shit and forgot to care.

In other news, Mario Claiborne is dead. I didn't know the guy, but I have been eagerly awaiting the Supreme Court's decisions in Rita and Claiborne. I don't generally eagerly await Supreme Court decisions. Sure, I find some of them interesting and I try to keep with what's going on, but I'd be lying if I said that, as a general matter, I eagerly await the decisions (okay, maybe one a year). But I was very eagerly awaiting these decisions. Claiborne's dead, his case is moot, and my heart is breaking. Who knew I'd ever be this interested in sentencing...