  There is this strange satisfying feeling you get when your parents leave after a weekend visit. You remember when you were so depressed when they left, that you didn't know how you were going to get through the days until you could see them again and how in the world were you going to take care of yourself? Now you're glad that they love your apartment and the city in which you live and you're excited to see them next but you also relish the quiet and clean house they left behind.
Roo is just glad Penny is gone. She gives quite the kisses. VH1 gives out some damn good chocolates. Yay for rep gifts and yay for bosses whose doctor says she can't eat them. I had every intention of sewing up my tank top today, but sleeping and lifting weights got in the way, as did working on a gift for my secret pal. I also lost Justin Timberlake in the midst of all that and finally found him in my car where Coldplay usually is (Coldplay, incidentally, is in my alarm clock). We slept with the windows open the past few nights. It was great. I was in The Nest with my dog.
She got her butt stuck under the bed both nights. She's horribly allergic to pollen and can't stop scratching. I suggested Claritin, but that idea was nixed. I started the new medicine yesterday. It may cause seizures. Keep an eye on me. Happy day-after-birthday to Chuck B., who was lucky enough to spend it with me. 
