Not that my life revolves around watching television or anything, but itís weird to have it be 8:30 pm, and everything is over for the night. That pretty much happens only on Oscar night, because the awards are shown live here on the west coast, meaning they start at 5:00 pm, and the other networks offer no counter-programming. So when itís 11:30 pm in the east, it might as well be 11:30 pm here, too.
Except itís not. Itís 8:30 pm. It only feels like 11:30 pm.
Since I was still working when the Oscar show started at five, I didnít take any elaborate notes so that I could write about (or even remember) what happened. So why then do I keep flashing back that thing on Charlize Theronís shoulder? Iím not one to critique fashion and I certainly have no taste when it comes to womenís dresses, but that was just strange. It looked as if a giant deformed moth had landed on her. I kept waiting for her to try to flick it away.
I even ate earlier than usual today, what with prime time starting three hours earlier than usual. Of course, the real reason for that was probably the fact that I spent the whole day hunched over the keyboard, trying to make progress on the Big Project. And I did. Just not as much as Iíd hoped. I got stuck on a particular cost report that took way longer than it should have, and by the time I had solved all the (admittedly self-created) problems in that one spreadsheet, I didnít have the heart to tackle another one right away.
And now here it is 8:30 pm, nothing left to watch on TV, and Iím hungry again. Thereís no bread in the house, and Iím almost out of milk. I really need to get to the store tomorrow, whether the storm keeps up or not. (And whether I have money or not.) I think itís time for another frozen waffle, or maybe a bagel. Something that will hold me up until the real 11:30 pm comes along.