Last night, in my first drunken night since El Surgery, I decided that the Manhattan's bar staff should dance on the bar. Gooood plan. Actually, no one cared. Which may have been the best part about it. The bar had been busy before we came in but just as we got there the crowd of KU geologists left because they had to get up at 7. Pansies! Some nice KU boy gave me a cinnamon toothpick, and I put it in my pocket for later. I'm surprised I didn't stab myself with it. What a dangerous night, fraught with spicy shards of wood and standing on bars surrounded by glass bottles.
We're closing the library early today to hash out the new library plans with the architects. I'm sad to give up my comfy desk chair to sit in a cold basement. But it means I'm less likely to slap myself awake at 3 PM.
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