It's 7:39 a.m., and I'm at work. The only sounds I hear are my fingers tapping on my keyboard and my computer fan whirring. I hate being here by myself at night, but the morning is nice. The sun is beaming in long yellow stripes between the bars on the windows. In less than an hour, this place will be anything but peaceful. But right now, on my last Tuesday, that's exactly what I feel: Peace. I know I've made the right decision.

I went out for dinner with JH last night. We went to the usual spot: A family-style diner, frequented mostly by the kind of old people who smoke, wear trackpants and don't bathe. We show up, JH in her smart suit, me in my "slacks and jacket," and stick out like the proverbial sore thumbs. We were tucked away at a corner table, and laughed and talked and bitched. It had been far too long. December-ish, I think. We agreed that we HAVE to do it more often. More than quarterly. :)

So I didn't really get a chance to miss The Boy last night. I got home around 8, and he got home a little after 9. He got a haircut yesterday, and I don't have the heart to tell him that it's WAY too short. I love him SO much, and I know he would be crushed. He keeps going on about how it's "the best haircut I've EVER HAD!!! Sam's the MAN!!!" So I tell him that it's a great haircut. Because it is. On him. Because I love him.

Almost forgot. The reason I'm here at 7:47 a.m. is because RM dropped a line yesterday, asking if I could make it to a 5 p.m. meeting today. I work until 5. I panicked. I asked BJ if I could come in an hour early and leave an hour early, and he said it was no problem. So here I am. I'm supposed to be doing a list for BD, but... oh well. What are they gonna do? Fire me?? :)

So I'm really excited (read: nervous) about this meeting today. I'll meet the rest of the partners in the firm. The meeting is actually with the branding agency, to go over our new logo, letterhead, web site look, etc., and RM wanted me to be a part of it. What a refreshing change from the X, where it's an absolute dictatorship. I feel like a member of the D-I team already, and I haven't even started yet!

So I'll leave here at 4, in the hope that I'll get to VP's offices on time. (The partners are from VP, and the D-I meetings are held in VP's boardroom for now, until we get bigger.)

I think I wrote about the stationery set I bought on the weekend. I really like it, and keep admiring it. Now, the tough part is actually writing cards for everyone. I wonder if there's a site that has advice on "parting words," when leaving a job. Of course there is. There's a site on anything.

Speaking of "anything," I feel absolutely ashamed of our Canadian Idol. I don't claim to know the guy, but he seems like a complete ass. He said something the other day about not getting enough recognition, and, "They should treat me like I'm special, because I AM special." Pfft. Whatever.

Dear Ryan Malcolm, a.k.a. Mr. Special Canadian Idol:

You are, in fact, not special. You sound like everyone who's ever sung karaoke, or at my high school talent shows. You won because you're from a big city, being Kingston, and Canadians voted, almost certainly, for the contestant who lived nearest their own hometowns. You did NOT win because you're talented or "special." Had voting gone by talent, the Idol would have gotten the recognition you feel you deserve but, unfortunately, don't.

Love,

UptownGirl77

Have you ever wanted to write a letter like that? I have. I sometimes feel like it's my personal obligation to set someone straight. I've never actually done it though. I'm too chicken.