Fourteen...

I woke up and yelled at myself for being a ninny last night. Seriously. I'm an idiot sometimes. And then I sat in bed and moaned, and then I tuned my guitar but never really played it. Showered, committed to a bad hair day. Put on something I wear too often. Brewed coffee. And left for rehearsal.

The scene we rehearsed today is ridiculous and I'm kind of in love with it. The director had asked I take a chance and not settle into my typical pattern. So instead of playing a 70 year old Southerner named Pearl, I'm playing a 70 year old New Yorker named Pearl. Hilarious. I had no idea I could make my voice do neat tricks, but apparently I can. I feel good and thankfully, confident.

I left rehearsal and, despite the rain, decided to go do something about the fact that every pair of shoes I own seems to have holes in the bottom. Along the way, there was a Lori conversation and some pinkberry with pomegranate seeds. Mmmmmm.

Now, I'm usually an enthusiastic shopper, but shoe shopping kind of makes me break down into hysterical tears. I never find what I want for the price I need so I usually wind up with something that'll do for a price that's higher than what I planned. I have decided I need a pair of hot little ankle boots. Sadly, my favorite pair were $100. There'll be sales later this season, right? Right?

And then I remembered that upstairs sat Filene's Basement, and inside Filene's Basement lives a quarter of a floor dedicated entirely to socks and tights. Only when I arrived I quickly learned that where it was is where the women's suiting department currently resides. And I have to buy a new suit. So. Found a pinstriped Calvin Klein for 70% less than it was at Macy's. Guess I should stop being a snob about Filene's, huh? Didn't get any tights though. Whoops.

And now, here I sit with my cat and my DVR. Some might label me a loser, but I assure you, I've been plenty social this week.