-- Wednesday, March 8, 2000 --

1:11 a.m. It's really hard to believe -- impossible, actually -- that exactly one week ago we were on a semi-deserted island having something of a semi-vacation. And longing for some work to break the monotony. And wha-la: I've got my wish.

My morning started out with such promise. I was up early-ish, starting in on email and various competent tasks ... and the first FedEx delivery came and suddenly I was back in the thick of it. Another go-round with a cover that I can't seem to get right.

And then another crisis erupted and my afternoon was spent juggling two different projects against two mutually exclusive deadlines ... and failing, of course. Much rushing, many moments of anxiety.

But. At least we were able to order in some Chinese. And I'm getting better with chopsticks and I'm getting better with layers and CMYK. One of these days I might even be an expert, or at least able to pick up the individual grains of rice with my tongs.

I once thought a good diet might be to only eat what I could spear with chopsticks. Another diet was the wine diet -- fast until you can't stand it anymore, and then have a glass of wine. Repeat until the weight is gone, or you're too far gone to notice.

I should have been on a diet for the last few weeks or so, at least. My best and dearest friend, whom I haven't seen in a while, is coming for the weekend, and it would have been wonderful to look good. It could have happened.

But. Instead, I'm going to be giving her the best present in the world. I'm going to look lousy and tired and, you know -- lumpy. I'm doing all this because I am such a good friend. Anyone would look good standing next to me these days.

I've been leaning a lot. Falling asleep on the space bar. Letting my hair get too long and gouging my leg with a rusty nail. Oh! What I do for friendship. I am such a peach. Plus, I haven't bought any new clothing in a really long while, and I've been known to spill things on myself.

And she's coming from a business convention and she's a lawyer. She has lawyer clothing and I'm wearing Igor's old sweater that he got from a used-clothing pile.

A deep sigh has escaped my lips. I've buttoned up my Photoshop files for the night and turned off the printer. There's nothing to do now but dive into bath, book, and bed. There's a lot of leftover Chinese. Maybe tomorrow I won't eat it.

Maybe tomorrow I'll get more done. Maybe the next time I have a vacation, I will appreciate it. Or maybe I'll just have a touch of the fried rice, a forkful of chow fun.

It's just like a trip to Fantasyland.