She turned me into a newt... I got better.

Sorry if yesterday's going postal post was over the top. I was in a serious state of unhappiness, and the constant barrage of asshat apprentices was really making my day worse- which I didn't think was possible.

Anyways.

After work I beat the hell out of myself at physical therapy, and I made my PT's day by donning my new headband with her name on it(see this post for more info), but encountered something I really wasn't expecting- sharp pain. Both of us were concerned about it, so we cut my workout a little short. By a little, of course, I mean we cut out the very last thing, one of my favorites, actually. Things got better, of course, the pain subsided(although creeps up from time to time).

After that I went home, and chowed down something fierce. I was extremely hungry. I also finished up watching season one of Six Feet Under. I can't wait to get the next season on DVD. Good stuff.

Then came Pub Quiz. Unfortunately, for the second week in a row, there wasn't enough people to play. What made me very happy was when the new waitress told me there were people asking about it at a table out front. When I introduced myself, M said "are you Logan's Dave?" It occurred to me that this was the first time I had met a reader who I didn't previously know in real life. She had heard about my pub quiz by reading my blog, which made me happy. Unfortunately, I forgot to ask for your URL, M, so please send it to me at logansdave@gmail.com. Thanks so much for coming out last night, and I hope to see you next Tuesday!

I hope to see all Chicagoland readers next Tuesday- I could use the numbers. Bring friends.

So, afterwards, my friend S and I headed back to the homestead for a nightcap, and stayed up watching the wonderful Sox/Yankees game. We turned off the commentators during the 9th inning, though, to listen to some Johnny Cash.

This all leads to not getting much sleep, which led to a silly thing this morning- as I was sleepwalking to the train, I walked to the turnstile and put my corporate keycard to the Chicago cardreader. I was terribly surprised when the turnstile wouldn't let me though before I realized that I was trying to use the wrong card.

I thought it was funny.