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Not that my life revolves around watching television or anything, but it’s 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 it’s 11:30 pm in the east, it might as well be 11:30 pm here, too.
Except it’s not. It’s 8:30 pm. It only feels like 11:30 pm.
Since I was still working when the Oscar show started at five, I didn’t 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 Theron’s shoulder? I’m not one to critique fashion and I certainly have no taste when it comes to women’s 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 I’d 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 didn’t have the heart to tackle another one right away.
And now here it is 8:30 pm, nothing left to watch on TV, and I’m hungry again. There’s no bread in the house, and I’m 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 it’s time for another frozen waffle, or maybe a bagel. Something that will hold me up until the real 11:30 pm comes along. |
