Last week has finally caught up with me. It hit me last night, in the middle of deciding which version of CSI to watch. The DH asked if I wanted some pralines and cream ice cream (direct from Baskin-Robbins) to go with the criminal investigations, and I had to decline: I was too tired to eat.

That phrase is one I had never even considered until a few years ago. It's something my friend Joanne says from time to time. Heck, she's the slowest eater I know, taking her sweet time, not minding if the food is way beyond lukewarm as she clears her plate. And she has moments when even the thought of eating has her feeling even more exhausted. That's me right now.

The DH even let me sleep in so that he and Zaphod could have some proper kitty-Daddy bonding time. They probably played a game of chess and listened to Emerson Lake & Palmer.

But, tired as I am, I am heading off to a wild girl's night with my pal Laura from London, the party capital of Canada. We have a suite at a downtown hotel, a vast supply of snack foods and a good half-year of gossip to catch up on.

It's gonna be awesome! See you on the other side. ;)